Baby for Sale
by CanonAntithesis
Summary: Uber fic Sharpay is an actress in New York. Troy is a senior at NYU. What does a scheme by a rich and powerful society couple have to do with Sharpay and Troy? Better summary inside TroyPay; Penname changed from GimmeABeat to CanonAntithesis
1. Prologue

**Baby for Sale**

Disclaimer: I only own this plot. I do not own High School Musical.

Summary: It's an uber fiction, ie, we have two people: Sharpay Evans and Troy Bolton, who are not the Sharpay and Troy of HSM. They have the same names, looks and personalities (if I can pull that one off). Actually, I think this Sharpay is probably going to be more like Suite Life's Maddie with Sharpay's name. Oh, and for purposes of this story, Sharpay is a natural blond. Anyway, Sharpay is a struggling young actress in New York City at the end of her rope. Troy is a senior at NYU, struggling financially to make it through his final year of college.

Enter Thomas and Cynthia Vanderbilt, a society couple whose vast family fortune is almost tapped out. But they have a scheme that will ensure they inherit all of rich Uncle Cecil's money. Just how do Troy and Sharpay fit into this scheme?

**Prologue**

"Oooo, I like this one, Cynthia", the man says, enthusiastically, like a little boy in a candy store as he looks at the photograph of the luscious blond with large ... amenities.

"Thomas, we're picking out the mother of our child not, _Miss July_", the woman, Cynthia, scoffs in disgust, "And besides which, those aren't even remotely real and she's obviously a bleached blond."

'Thomas' and 'Cynthia' are sitting on the luxurious leather sofa in a plushly decorated office suite. The office is dominated by an enormous antique desk situated in front of a palladium window overlooking the New York Stock Exchange. Two walls are lined with floor to ceiling bookcases and filled to overflowing with large leather-bound books. The remaining walls are encased in rich, dark cherry paneling. The room smells of rich leather and old money.

The couple are sitting close together, but one has the impression this is the closest they've come to one another in years without resorting to physical and emotional battering. They are both in their mid-forties and their demeanor says, 'I'm extremely rich and bored, so don't bother me.' They are perusing through portfolio after portfolio of attractive young wannabe actresses searching for just the right one.

"This is it!", Cynthia exclaims triumphantly as she holds up a folder from the huge stack. "Listen to this: age: 21, hair: blond, _natural _blond, I might add", she says snidely and then, continues, "eyes: brown, height: five feet, three inches, weight: 100 pounds --- a little on the skinny side, but it shouldn't cause any problems."

"Well...", Thomas says in a skeptical tone as he studies her picture, "she's ... cute ... I guess."

"I keep telling you Thomas, this isn't one of your little dalliances."

Just then, an older man enters the room. He has an air of authority about him and is wearing an extremely expensive three-piece suit. "How is the search progressing, any luck?"

"Yes Charles, we may have found her. Take a look at this one", Cynthia says as she hands him a folder.

Charles Niquist takes the folder and sits down in a nearby winged-back chair. He opens it up and starts reading. On the left side of the folder is a biography of the aspiring actress. It lists her physical statistics, education and professional credits. The latter two are sorely lacking. Following that are several 8X10 color glossies of the young woman. _ She must have blown her whole savings on these shots_, Charles thinks to himself.

"The resemblance is remarkable", he comments as he continues to study her face. "In fact, if I didn't know better, I might think she was your daughter, Cynthia."

Thomas lets out a ill-contained guffaw at this statement and Cynthia's eyes narrow to tiny slits.

"Ahhh, I mean your younger sister, of course", Charles quickly corrects himself.

Ignoring his faux pax, Cynthia comments, "Yes, it is remarkable. Her eyes are identical to mine and we have the same shade of hair."

"Oh, Cynthia, your hair hasn't been that shade,_ naturally_, in ten years."

Continuing on, as if Thomas wasn't even in the room, Cynthia says, "She's the same height as I and has the same body type. She even has that unsightly little bump on her nose, which I had plastic surgery to correct. Is she available, Charles?"

"We can contact her to see what we can arrange."

"Money is no object", Cynthia tells him.

"Ah yes, about that...well, how do I put this delicately...The society papers are implying that the great Vanderbilt fortune is gone and you two are living on the good graces of others and the family reputation."

"That's a pack of lies!", Thomas exclaims as he jumps to his feet.

"Absolutely, Charles. We have plenty of money ... or rather, we will in about nine months or so", Cynthia says cryptically.

"Alright, let's cut to the chase. I've known you two for nearly fifteen years and I know, for a fact, that you hate each other and the only reason you're still married is a finely worded pre-nuptial agreement and your extremely unhealthy co-dependent life-style", Charles Niquist, attorney to the rich and famous, stops to take a deep breath, "So, why in God's green earth would the two of you want to have a baby?"

Cynthia looks pensive, trying to decide what to tell him. Thomas, actually, starts giggling, uncontrollably so.

"Oh, Tommy, do stop being such a boob", Cynthia orders.

"Sorry, but it really is just outrageous", Thomas says as he regains control over himself. "You see, it's all because of dear old, old, old,..."

"Get on with it", Cynthia hisses at him.

"...Great Uncle Cecil...Cecil Milford Vanderbilt III, the last great source of wealth in this sad, dried-up, tired, old family."

"He's nearing the end of his life, poor old dear", Cynthia sighs dramatically.

"Oh Gawd, quit pretending like you give a rat's ass about the old coot."

Cynthia glares intently at Thomas before continuing. "Anyway, he thinks our family is dying out. Because of the boozing and drugs and unsavory diseases", she shoots Thomas a knowing look, "not to mention the in-breeding...there really isn't a next generation of which to carry on the legacy."

"So, in steps Great Uncle Cecil...he's written a new will and the next child born, male or female, to our illustrious family..."

"Born legitimately, I might add", Cynthia contributes.

"Yes, bastards don't count...", Thomas continues.

"Never have", Cynthia says knowingly.

"Anyway...that child will inherit the whole fortune: lock, stock and barrel. Unfortunately, it also needs to be a blood heir, that is, no adoptions. Ergo, the reason behind choosing biological parents who resemble us as much as possible."

"And there's a second cousin thrice removed, or some such mess, who might give us a run for our money..."

They both stop to giggle at her unintentional joke. _Oh Lord, the idle wealthy are so odd_, Charles thinks to himself as he tries to patiently wait for them to continue.

"Therefore, because of these cousins, time is of the essence", Thomas finishes.

"How much money are we talking about?", questions Charles.

"It's in the neighborhood of 40 billion, Charles", Thomas says with a gleam in his eyes.

Even Charles Niquist is impressed by this. "But I don't understand. Both of you are barely in your forties; you're reasonably healthy,...why don't you try having a baby yourselves?"

"Why don't you ask Mr. Can't Keep It In His Pants, over there?", Cynthia says, thumbing her hand towards her husband.

"Hey, there's no proof that that STD caused your cervical cancer. And besides, how do we know it wasn't one of your boytoys who gave you HPV? There's no proof it was from me", Thomas says vehemently.

"I was only twenty-five years old, you son of a bitch. I was still in love with you then and had never even considered cheating on you. That is, until that disease, _which you gave me_, made me contract cervical cancer. And the cure for that cancer, Thomas", she asks sarcastically, "a complete hysterectomy at twenty-five."

They both stop talking as they glare maliciously at each other.

"Ummm...", Charles starts to say, uncomfortably. "So, if we contract with this young woman to be your surrogate, I assume that you, Thomas, will provide the donor sperm?"

"Ha! Fat chance of that! You and the doctor both would lose your licenses if you let his dirty little swimmers anywhere near that girl", Cynthia informs him with glee. Thomas, to his credit, looks embarrassed. "See, Thomas' infidelity finally came back to bite him in the ass... Get it, Tommy...the ass?", she smiles evilly at him as he returns her look, glare for glare. "See when Tommy, here, swings, he does it both ways. Thomas is HIV positive. Even if we did want to saddle the little tike with his degenerative genes, we couldn't do it."

"Oh", Charles sighs as he adjusts his collar and loosens his tie, "in that case, should I gather up some male candidates for you?"

"No, no, we already have someone in mind", Thomas says wearily. He really needs a drink.

"Fine. I'll contact the young woman and if she is agreeable...How much money should I offer?"

"Hmmm, how about $50,000?", Cynthia offers up.

"$50,000? You're going to inherit billions and you're only going to pay the girl $50,000?", Charles asks incredulously.

"Well, we can't have her getting suspicious", Thomas points out. "If our offer is over-the-top, she'll know something's not on the up-and-up."

"Ah, so you don't intend on her finding out about your true motivation. How do you plan on carrying that off?"

"Oh, you'll convince her that we're the prefect loving couple, who desperately wants a child and she is our last resort. And we'll want her to stay with us for the duration. That way we can monitor her lifestyle and keep her out-of-sight. Add a no outside contact to her contract; we don't want her talking to anyone during this time. And also, I'll have her there with me, so I can more closely mimic her symptoms and the proper size for the prosthetic", Cynthia explains.

"Prosthetic?", Charles asks in genuine confusion.

"Yes, Cynthia has this brilliant idea. See, she'll wear these increasingly larger pregnant tummy attachments." At Charles' confused look, he explains, "Well, we can't very well just pull this baby out of thin air and expect anyone to believe its ours without anyone ever seeing Cynthia pregnant", Thomas says with true admiration for his wife. He has seemingly forgotten their vicious spitting contest from a few minutes ago. _Maybe, he's bi-polar_, Charles thinks.

"How can you convince anyone you're a loving couple? You hate each other and you don't even live together."

"Au contraire, my dear Charles. We'll be staying at our Central Park West Penthouse. And don't worry, we may hate each other, but we love money; we'll represent the perfect loving couple."

"Hell, we may even make it on the cover of Parenting magazine", Thomas adds.

"I'll do my best, but I can't promise anything."

"But we can, Charles dear. How does 10 of our inheritance sound to you?", Cynthia croons.

"Just a little added incentive", Thomas further explains, "under the table, as it were."

Despite his intense dislike of these people, Charles can't help it when his eyes light up with greed.

After the Vanderbilts leave, Charles reaches for his phone as he flips open the folder. He pauses before he dials the telephone number and hopes he won't burn in hell for this.

"Yes, may I speak to Sharpay Evans? I represent clients interested in contracting for your services."

TBC

A/N: So what do you guys think? I just couldn't shake this little plot bunny and needed to write it down before I forgot it. Don't worry, Unlove You is still number 1 on my priority list. I know there's no TroyPay in this chapter. Heck, they aren't even in the story yet, but please review and let me know what you think.

A/N 2: Research girl, here. It's amazing how much I learn writing these stories. Anyway, HPV is Human Papillomavirus. It's an STD, sexually transmitted disease, and can cause cervical cancer. HIV is, of course, the virus that causes AIDS.


	2. Chapter 1: A Typical Day

**Baby for Sale**

Disclaimer: I only own this plot. I do not own High School Musical.

**Chapter 1: A Typical Day**

_"Yes, may I speak to Sharpay Evans? It's about your portfolio; I represent clients interested in contracting for your services."_

"Really?!", the young blond woman nearly shrieks into her cell phone. Sharpay is currently standing in a long line which is snaking its way down Broadway. It's a hot August day and this is one of those infamous casting calls where hundreds of aspiring young actors and actresses wait for the chance to be noticed in New York's dog-eat-dog world of theater. She's been in this line for three hours already and it's starting to look like she won't even make it into the building.

"Yes, Miss Evans. This is Thomas Niquist of Niquist and Kohl and I wanted to set up an appointment where you could come in and discuss about our proposal."

_Wow, this is one of the owners of the agency. _Then, her brow wrinkles in confusion. _Why would one of the owners be calling a nobody like me?... Oh well, maybe this is what it's like when you're finally discovered. But hey, I don't remember dropping off my portfolio at an agency called Niquist and Kohl. I've never even heard of them._

"Miss Evans? Are you still there?"

"Oh, yes...sorry about that. It's just ... I don't remember leaving my portfolio with a Niquist and Kohl agency, but I dropped off my portfolio at a lot of agencies. " Light bulbs are going off in Sharpay's head. Everyone's heard stories of young wannabes in big cities, like New York, who are lured into seedy locations with the promise of instant fame and fortune. Sometimes, they end up getting into prostitution or pornography and sometimes, they end up dead.

"Um, where are you located? Is it one of the agencies on Park Avenue?", she asks him. No sleaze could afford the rent on Park Avenue and she'd left her folders at about fifteen talent agencies on Park.

"I believe we bought your portfolio along with many others from a clearinghouse agency. Regardless, my clients are very much interested in a business arrangement with you. And no, Miss Evans. Our offices are located on Wall Street. Look, we're a reputable firm, but we may not be what you're expecting. We are Niquist and Kohl, one of the city's oldest and most prestigious law firms and I would like to set up an appointment to meet with you and discuss a very profitable and worthwhile arraignment. Unfortunately, I am not at liberty to discuss the details over the phone. Would you be available tomorrow morning at nine sharp?"

_Well, he doesn't sound like a creepy porno director. Oh, come on, Sharpay, how many creepy porno directors have you heard before, anyway?_

"Miss Evans!", Charles Niquist is used to getting what he wants when he wants it --- not waiting for silly little girls to decide whether or not he is the nefarious head of a white slavery ring.

"Okay, Mr. Niquist. I'll be there."

"Wonderful, I'll transfer you over to my assistant; she'll give you the address and directions on the best way to get here."

A few minutes later, just as she finishes the phone call, one of the assistant directors come out to tell them to all go home. The play is cast. Maybe, tomorrow will turn out to be her silver lining.

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An hour and a half later, Sharpay arrives at her apartment in Greenwich Village. A little over a year ago when she and her roommate found this apartment, it seemed like the perfect place to live. She could just see it: the biography special on E! Network where they tour her old apartment and show the world how the famous Sharpay Evans once suffered for her craft. Now, it just seems like the dump it is, the dump she is currently trying to sneak into. Sharpay is creeping silently down the small, dark hallway trying to reach the safety of the stairs. She is right in front of the most dangerous door in the entire building. If she can just make it past here...CREAK!... her foot pushes down on a loose floorboard. The door is instantly ripped open to reveal a flamboyantly dressed woman with over-sized black-rimmed glasses and her dyed ashe-blond hair piled high on her head in a messy bun.

"Miss ... Evans!", she calls dramatically. "How fortuitous that I find you here, my dear. Are you aware of the date, Miss Evans?"

"Um, Tuesday?", Sharpay replies lamely. _ I know very well what the date is and why can't this crazy old lady just come out and tell me that the rent is overdue._

"Well, in that case, you must realize that your rent is overdue."

_Oh...guess she's not so crazy after all._

"Yes ma'am, Mrs. Darbus, I'm well aware of that. "

"Now, don't misunderstand me, Miss Evans. I understand the struggles of the young thespian. Why, when I was in the theater...", she stops her soliloquy in mid-sentence and looks at Sharpay curiously. "But you don't want to hear the ramblings of an old, washed-up actress...", she finishes as she glances at Sharpay sideways while twisting her over-sized faux pearls around her fingers. It would be called _hamming it up_ on a stage, but in a dimly-lit, run-down hallway, it is just odd.

"Oh no, of course not, Mrs. Darbus. I _love_ hearing your stories about Broadway. I mean those were the glory days, weren't they? Not like today, where it's it's all sex and skin", Sharpay says as she smiles and lays it on thickly._ Would someone please explain why I haven't gotten discovered yet? I mean, come on, people, this is acting._

Mrs. Darbus' eyes light up like a marquee on opening night. "Oh, that's wonderful. Come right on in, dear", she says as she holds open the door for the young woman. "Have I shown you my clippings from when I was under-study to Elizabeth Taylor. Well, it was _Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolfe?_ , but if you ask me it should have been called Who's Afraid of Liz Taylor?"

She leads a falsely smiling Sharpay into her apartment and closes the door.

HSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSM

Two hours later, Sharpay slams the door closed as she storms into a nearly dark, freezing cold apartment.

"Kelsi!", she shouts for her roommate as she stalks over to the loudly groaning air conditioner which is blasting away at it's coldest setting. Sharpay quickly turns it off. The old window unit wheezes to a stop with a loud clank and a slow sputter which ends in blessed silence. The poor thing is barely hanging on and with the way Kelsi overuses it, it's not going to make it until the end of summer.

"It's freezing in here! Where are you, Kelsi? I've just had to spend two hours listening to Darbus drone on and on about her _glory days in the theater_", she says this final part with her nose pinched shut in order to sound more snooty. "This time she made me look at her scrap book. Ya know...Darbus was actually pretty hot looking back in her day."

She walks into the small bedroom; it has two twin sized beds along one wall. One bed is neatly made and the other is completely rumpled since its occupant is still in it, although the entire body is covered by a layer of thick blankets. Sharpay walks over to the rumpled bed and sits down on the edge, near the headboard.

She continues, "I'm not paying half of this power bill, you know. You use way more electricity than I do. It's August out there, Kelsi, and you've got it feeling like February in here.

"But back to my Darbus story... if I have to say _brava_ one more time...but hey, I got us a one week extension on the rent. Pretty good, if I do say so myself."

Noticing that Kelsi still hasn't moved, she says "Why am I talking to myself? Kelsi, it's five o'clock in the afternoon, how can you possibly be asleep? Kelsi? Kelsi? Wake up, my little sawed-off Sondheim."

She reaches up and quickly pulls the covers back to reveal her roommate's...feet. The girl is sleeping upside down in the bed, again.

"Oh, for heaven's sake...", she mumbles before she stalks off into the bathroom. This is definitely a two-shower day.

After her shower she leaves her hair wrapped up in a towel -- turban-style and pulls on a sloppy t-shirt and shorts. Then, she goes about preparing her favorite dinner. After finding the last package of Ramen noodles in the cupboard, she places the still sealed package on the counter top and proceeds to pummel it to smithereens by beating on it with her closed fist. Satisfied that the dry noodles have been properly pulverized, she opens the package and digs through the mashed noodles to find the seasoning packet. Next, she pours the noodles into a bowl and opens the seasoning packet and dumps it on the dry noodles.

_Wow, a complete meal for only 29 cents. Wouldn't my home ec teacher be proud?_

Sharpay settles down to watch a little television while she munches on her Ramen. Kelsi finally drags herself out of bed while Sharpay is eating and is now hitting the thirty minute mark on her shower.

_Kelsi...she sleeps all day, stays up all night, uses all the hot water when she showers, runs the power bill up by running the air conditioner at full blast 24/7, eats all her food. How did I ever get saddled with such a bad roommate? Oh yeah, she's been my best friend since, like, third grade, which is why the two of us decided to move here together after two horrible years in college, in the first place. Why it took us two years to figure out that we didn't really want to be accountants as much as our parents did, is still a mystery. So here we are taking New York by storm. Storm...ha...more like an irritating mist that makes it hard to drive, but is too fine to use the windshield wipers. Maybe this thing with Niquist will be the big break I've been waiting for._

Kelsi finishes her shower at the forty-four minute mark. One minute more and Sharpay would have barged in there and turned it off.

"Good morning", Kelsi chirps brightly as she walks into the small living room/dining room/kitchen combination. In a real house you'd call it a great room, but there is nothing_ great _about this room.

"It's after 8:30 at_ night_, Kelsi. I don't understand how you can sleep so much."

"Well, we musicians are renown for keeping late hours." She flops down onto the sofa with a bag of chips and a diet soda.

"Hey, that's my soda, Kels. I was saving it for later", Sharpay complains as she makes a grab for the chip bag.

"Yeah well, it's the last one in the frig, so we'd better get some more", she says casually.

"_We?_ What, _we,_ would that be, Kels? I'm the only one who ever does any shopping around here."

She takes a big swig of soda and retrieves the bag of chips before she replies seriously, "Actually, we should probably talk about that."

Sharpay is surprised by the seriousness of her tone and reaches over to turn off the television.

"You want to talk about grocery shopping?", she asks hopefully, but internally, Sharpay is scared to death about where she thinks this conversation is going.

"No, not really...Look Sharpay, we gave it our best shot, okay? I mean we've done the whole living our dream thing in Greenwich Village, starving for our art, working our tails off to get discovered...But you haven't had a single part in the last three months and I can't even sell a fifteen second jingle for a cell phone commercial. And the only thing that's been discovered is the bottom of my bank account."

"So...what are you saying?", Sharpay asks in a whisper.

"I called my mom yesterday. They're sending me a plane ticket. I'm going back home, Sharpay."

"What!? How can you just give up like that? Kelsi, you single-handedly wrote our high school junior and senior year's musicals. You've got more talent in your little pinkie than most of these jerks have in their entire body."

"Yeah...well, you starred in over seventeen school productions and had the lead in every play since Kindergarten. But what good has that done for you here?"

"I...I...actually, I have an appointment tomorrow. I think it might be something really big. This could be the break I've been waiting for."

"I really hope that's true, Sharpay", Kelsi tells her, sincerely, "but I'm finished. My flight leaves tomorrow at noon. I ... I could give a message to your family...if you like."

"Umm, my parents and I didn't leave things on a very good footing. I don't think they want to hear from me."

"Maybe things have changed. You know 'absence makes the heart grow fonder'", Kelsi says.

"I don't think so. I...I tried to call home about a month ago...You know to just say hi. Anyway, my mom wouldn't talk to me; she hung up on me", Sharpay finishes as she sniffles and wipes away a stray tear.

"Oh, Shar...that really sucks", Kelsi says sympathetically.

"Well, hey. Maybe my thing tomorrow will work out and it's your last night, right? We shouldn't waste it sitting in front of the TV", Sharpay exclaims and pushes those depressing thoughts to the back of her mind --- like how she was supposed to pay for the rent on this place by herself and was Kelsi planning on paying her share of the expenses that were due now before she left and ... _stop that! You're supposed to pushing them to the back of your mind, not the front._

Sharpay hops up and starts to move towards the bedroom. She grabs Kelsi's hand as she walks by. "Come on, Kels. Let's make your final night in the Big Apple one to remember. Let's go get ready! We're going to party!"

"Great idea, Shar! And the night's on me, okay? Mom put some spending money in my account."

TBC

A/N: Anybody else out there eat their Ramen noodles dry? I think it's disgusting, but a friend of mine loves it that way, so I added that scene in her honor.


	3. Chapter 2: Clubbing

**Baby for Sale**

Disclaimer: I only own this plot. I do not own High School Musical.

**Chapter 2: Clubbing**

"I don't know, man", the sandy-haired, blue-eyed, young man says to his friend.

Two young men are standing in line at the hottest nightclub in the city. Fortunately, since it's a Tuesday night, the line is short.

"Come on, Troy. You need to live a little. It's the last night before classes start", his friend insists.

"Exactly. Which is why we should be in our beds right now getting a good night's sleep", Troy counters.

"Dude...has anyone ever told you how good you look for a man your age?"

"What are you talking about, Chad? We're the same age - twenty-one."

"Then, why don't you start acting like it? Hell, Troy you act like a forty year old man." Then, he grabs his friend by the shoulders and a gleam appears in his eyes as he explains, "This is our senior year of college. And for once, you don't have any financial problems. Your brother's giving you the money to pay tuition for the whole year, right? So you need ..."

"Stop right there, Chad", Troy pushes away Chad's hands and immediately grabs Chad's shirt collar and hisses angrily, "I told you before; he's my half-brother. And he's not _giving_ me anything. I'm earning it..." Then, he lets go of his best friend and runs a shaky hand through his hair, trying to calm down. "Sorry man", he mumbles, "you're right, maybe I do need to loosen up a little."

Chad straightens out his shirt and shakes his head to and fro a few times. Satisfied with the bounce he feels from his curly locks, he reassures Troy, "No problem, man. Let's party!"

A few minutes later, they enter the crowded club and are instantly bombarded by the extremely loud music.

"MAN, THIS MUSIC IS BUSTIN' MY EARDRUMS!, Troy yells to his friend in an effort to be heard.

"Well, good 'cause I hear a lot of middle-aged men suffer from hearing loss, so you'll fit right in", Chad shouts back.

"WHAT?"

Chad just walks off to check out the action on the dance floor. Troy orders himself a Coke and finds a table.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU PICKED _THE DANCING CAT_! THIS IS THE HOTTEST CLUB IN MANHATTAN", Kelsi shouts to Sharpay.

Sharpay is nursing her diet Coke and staring blankly out onto the dance floor. Her insecurities about the future have come back full force, plus the throbbing that's started just behind her eyes promises to be killer headache.

Sensing that her friend is just going to mope around all night, Kelsi grabs her by the hand and pulls her up out of her chair. She takes off her ever-present hat and playfully places it on Sharpay's head.

"COME ON, Shar! We're not spending our last night together watching a bunch of strangers have fun. Let's dance!

Sharpay giggles at her best friend and throws her hat back to her as they head onto the dance floor. At first they are dancing together, but soon Kelsi is lured away by a good-looking guy with kinky hair. Rather than dance by herself, Sharpay makes her way back through the crowd to her lonely diet soda.

The caffeine from the soda is just starting to help sooth her headache when a bouncy Kelsi arrives with her dance partner with the retro 'fro. However, it's the person tagging along with them that catches Sharpay's attention. Standing awkwardly beside Kelsi is the most gorgeous pair of blue eyes which are attached to the most gorgeous face which adorns the most gorgeous ... well, you get where this is going --- he's a god.

The three of them join Sharpay at the table. Kelsi's guy has a tray of shot glasses filled to the brim, a bowl of lemon wedges and a salt shaker.

"SHAR! THIS IS CHAD AND TROY! THEY'RE SENIORS AT NYU!", Kelsi yells over the noise of the club.

Sharpay, who is still staring intently at Troy, vaguely hears Kelsi's voice sounding like it's coming from very far away. She does, however, manage to hear the two names, 'Chad' and 'Troy'._ Chad, what a cute name_, Sharpay thinks.

Troy is equally awestruck by Sharpay. _You could get lost in those chocolate eyes,_ he thinks. _Charlotte, what a beautiful name._ Due to the deafening pounding of the music, when Kelsi says Shar, Troy can't quite understand what she says, so he tries to associate it with common girl names and his brain comes up with Charlotte.

"Hi", Sharpay says as the color rises in her cheeks. She realizes she is being uncharacteristically shy and she doesn't really care.

"Hi", Troy returns her greeting with his own blush.

Kelsi reaches over and grabs Sharpay's soda. "It's time we moved on to something a little more interesting."

At the same time, Chad passes out the shots to each person and places the bowl of lemons and the salt in the center of the small round table.

"The name of the game, ladies and gentlemen, is tequila shots ...

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"Uggg, my head...", Sharpay grabs her skull with both hands and moans, "I'll never drink again."

"You said it; remind me never to do shots with you again", Troy groans out.

Sharpay freezes when she hears his voice. She cautiously cracks open one eye and glances to her right. _ It's that god-like guy from the nightclub with those killer blue eyes. Brad...Tad...Chad, that's it, Chad. _"What are you doing here?", she shrieks at him. Only then does she realize that she is completely naked and in bed with this completely naked Chad guy. Sharpay screams as she reaches for the sheet and pulls it up to her neck.

"I'm the guy you got drunk and brought home with you, remember", Troy says as he holds his head which is pounding even harder after she screams at him.

Sharpay looks around the room anxiously. "This ... this isn't my apartment! Where are we?", she asks, speaking very quickly.

"Don't know. I don't remember how we got here."

"Did we ... you know?", she quickly waves her hand back and forth between the two of them.

"Oh yeah...", he replies as he waggles his brow, and then immediately closes his eyes because it hurts too much to move his face, "Now_ that_ I remember."

"Oh God... this is terrible."

"From what I remember, you thought it was pretty good last night."

"No, that's not what I meant. You see, I don't do things like this", she waves her hand back and forth between them again. "I don't get drunk and go home with strangers."

"Well, apparently you do, but we aren't at my place either; so, technically, you didn't go home with me."

"Then, where are we?", Sharpay asks as she grips the sheets tightly.

Troy hops out of bed and pads over to the window. Sharpay can't help but stare --- his perfectly sculpted rear., his muscular back. _ Oh God, are those scratch marks?_

He peeks through the dusty metal blinds and looks out. "Looks like some sort of cheap hotel. I think we're in Brooklyn. I can see what looks like the Brooklyn bridge."

"Brooklyn? How did we get all the way to Brooklyn?"

When he turns toward her to answer, she shrieks again and ducks her head under the sheet.

"Oh give me a break. I think we've already seen everything there is to see."

From under the sheet she mumbles, "Maybe you have, but I don't exactly remember very much, okay?"

He's about to berate her further, when he looks over at the cheap clock on the rickety nightstand.

"Damn, I missed my eight o'clock class. And if I don't hurry, I'm gonna miss my nine o'clock too", he exclaims as he starts running around the room trying to find his clothes.

_Nine o'clock. _"Oh no, my interview!", Sharpay shouts as she throws off the sheet, forgetting her shyness while she also tries to find her clothes.

In minutes they are rushing out the door and into the dingy elevator. Sharpay is standing with her back to Troy while she zips up her skirt and Troy is awkwardly tying his shoe while balancing on one foot.

Once they are somewhat presentable, Troy looks over to her and says, "Um, I'd like to see you again, ...but next time, without the shots."

"Yeah", Sharpay replies as she dips her head shyly to the side and stares at the elevator doors. "I'd like that."

Suddenly, the elevator jerks to a stop and the doors open at the street level. They hold each others hand and run outside onto the busy New York street. Once they each determine where they need to go, they start to pull apart in opposite directions. They both stop and look at each other meaningfully and quickly close the distance between them sharing a slow, sweet kiss.

Pulling back, Sharpay smiles at him sadly and says, "I have to go."

"Yeah, me too."

They separate and she quickly gives him a finger wave and announces brightly, "Toodles!"

Troy automatically raises his hand and waves back, echoing to her, "Um, toodles." Then, with his hand still high in the air waving, he realizes how absurd he looks and quickly lowers it and rushes off. Thirty seconds later, he stops short and he hits himself in the head. _Damn, I didn't get her number or even her last name._

Not until ten minutes later when Sharpay is sitting on the subway, reapplying her makeup, does she realize she doesn't have his telephone number and she doesn't even know his last name --- just his first, Chad. _Funny though, he doesn't look much like a Chad._

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"Come right in, Miss Evans and we'll get started", Charles Niquist says as he leads Sharpay into his office. _ Kids today! She looks like she's dressed for going to a club, not a job interview_, he scoffs silently to himself.

"Thank you, Mr. Niquist." She follows him in and is immediately dumbstruck by his office. She thought the lobby of their offices was impressive, but Mr. Niquist's inner sanctum is beyond belief. Her parents have money and she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth, but this is levels of magnitude above the Evans'. This office bespeaks of old money: the Rockefellers, the Kennedys, Oprah Winfrey.

"Please have a seat", Niquist offers as he indicates the winged-back leather chair in front of his large antique desk.

Mr. Niquist takes a seat behind the desk and opens the folder he has previously placed there.

"Now, let's get down to business. I represent Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Vanderbilt", he pauses as he waits for her reaction and is noticeably disappointed when he receives none. "Yes...well, regardless, they are an extraordinarily wealthy couple who unfortunately have no heir to whom to pass on their vast holdings..."

Sharpay shifts in her seat; she is feeling slightly sore due to her activities the previous evening or more precisely that morning. She reaches up to absentmindedly massage the kink in her neck when she pulls it back suddenly. There was some sort of grit on her neck which has now been transferred to her hand. She curiously holds up her fingertips and stares at the white crystals. Then, on impulse she brings her hand up to her mouth and darts out her tongue to taste her fingers. Salt...oh, God...

_They stumble into the cheap room, both of them giggling maniacally at something neither of them can remember. Sharpay is carrying her purse in one hand and a napkin in the other. She is holding tightly to a napkin as if it holds the rarest of gems. She places it on the bed and the white cloth falls open to expose her treasure: a pile of approximately a half-dozen lemon wedges. Troy is equally protecting his most prized possession, the nearly empty bottle of tequila. He was able to convince the waitress to let him have it after he gave her an overly generous tip. He shakily places it on the nightstand, after the third try._

_Troy looks around as if he's forgotten something, but can't remember what._

_"Hold on a sec", Sharpay slurs._

_Troy's eyes widens as she reaches her hand down inside her shirt. When she notices his reaction, she starts to make a show of it and slows down her movements to a sensuous dance. Then after teasing him for an extraordinarily long amount of time (at least in his mind), she triumphantly pulls her hand out and produces, to many accolades and thunderous applause (at least in her mind), the salt shaker and two shot glasses. She had somehow managed to nick them from the table while Troy was negotiating for the bottle of liquor. How she hid all that stuff inside her incredibly tight top, Troy will never know._

_Troy takes the glasses from her and pours them two shots. Having become quite proficient at tequila shots while they were at the club, Sharpay starts by licking the back of her hand and then pouring salt on it. Then, holding the shot glass in her salted left hand and a lemon wedge in her right, she licks the salt, slams the tequila, and finally sucks the lemon in rapid succession._

_"Damn, that's good. I can't believe I never tried this before tonight", Sharpay comments as her eyes cross briefly when the sharpness of the lemon hits her._

_"Really?", Troy asks and he starts to prepare for his own turn, "You picked it up pretty quick."_

_Smiling coyly, she says, "I pick up everything pretty quick and I'm always willing to try new things, B-man...Hey, why does your friend call you that?"_

_"That's because I was a big basketball jock in high school." Then, he grins wickedly and waggles his eyebrows, "So, you like trying new things, uh?"_

_Without waiting for her reply, he grabs her, gives her a quick peck on the lips and dips her back almost to the floor. They look like they're performing a big ballroom dancing finale. Then with no warning, Troy bends her neck to the side and licks it. Next, he stands her back up. Sharpay is still quite dizzy from the dip and the sinful feelings ignited when he licked her..._Wow, he licked me._ She doesn't even realize what's happening when he takes the salt shaker and quickly covers her neck with the white crystals. _Oh, so that explains the licking...it makes the salt stick. _ He puts the shaker down and picks up a lemon. Here, hold this in your mouth", he directs. _

_She opens her mouth and he pops in the wedge. If Sharpay had been sober, she probably would have seen what was coming next, but since she's blasted out of her skull, she's not thinking clearly. She's, actually, not thinking at all. She's running purely on instinct. _

_Holding her close, he tips her neck to the side and slowly licks off the salt. Troy picks up his shot glass and downs it in one gulp. Next comes the lemon, which is currently inside Sharpay's mouth. So...he moves his mouth is hers and starts to suck the lemon juice from her mouth while gently holding the back of her neck._

_When he finishes, he pulls back from her and spits out the lemon which ended up in Troy's mouth. _

_"That's called a body shot", he pants before he goes back in for a real kiss._

_That was the last shot of the night, but not the last time someone was licked._

"Miss Evans...Have you been listening to me?", Mr. Niquist shouts at her. He is becoming quite annoyed with Sharpay Evans.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Mr. Niquist. I've had a trying few days."

"Are you _ADD_, Miss Evans?"

"What? No...no, not at all. I have excellent attention and I'm very dedicated to my craft. I promise if I get this part, I will give it my all, 100, sir."

"Yes ... well, back to my proposal... As I was saying, you will live with the Vanderbilts for the duration for the project and they will, of course, take care of all of your medical expenses."

"Wait a minute, I must have missed something."

"Shall I start again from the beginning, Miss Evans?", Mr. Niquist says in exasperation.

"Please...", she says with a cringe.

"Once again from the top, as they say in show business... Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Vanderbilt are an extremely wealthy, but extremely unhappy couple. For you see due to unfortunate circumstances, their fondest wish cannot come true. They wish to have a child, but neither one of them is capable of reproducing." Charles pauses to see how Sharpay is reacting so far.

She is sitting on the edge of her seat and paying rapt attention.

Encouraged by this, Mr. Niquist continues, "That is where you come in, Miss Evans. The Vanderbilts would like to contract with you to be their surrogate and carry their child for them. Now due to their physical limitations, you will be the biological mother and the father will be through donor sperm personally arranged by the Vanderbilts. Now you may be curious why you were chosen over the thousands of other eligible candidates."

"Yes, I'd love to know that", Sharpay says enthusiastically.

"Here", Niquist says as he hands a photograph to her. "This is a recent photograph of Cynthia Vanderbilt. Please examine it."

Sharpay takes the picture from the lawyer and exclaims immediately, "Wow! She looks just like my mom."

"Yes, that was my thought too, but don't ever mention that to her, understand?", he whispers, conspiratorially.

She nods in agreement, then he continues cautiously, "In the social circles in which they travel, it would be most fortunate for the child to physically resemble the Vanderbilts; ergo, your selections as the surrogate."

She is still listening with interest and nodding at the appropriate times.

"I must say, Miss Evans, you're taking this better than I had hoped. Now as for compensation --- I am authorized to offer you $50,000."

"$50,000! Wow, that's amazing. How long do you anticipate it running? And when would the project start?"

"Running? Well, normal human gestation is forty weeks and I understand that depending on your, um, cycle, implantation could take place as early as two weeks."

"What?...Oh, you had me there for a minute. It's method acting, right? I don't have a lot of experience with that, but I'm a quick study. And I must say, Mr. Niquist, that this is the most interesting plot I've ever heard. It has so many possibilities."

"Plot?", Mr. Niquist says with his brows wrinkled. "There must be some confusion. While it's true that we found you through your acting resume, we aren't hiring you to act."

"What?", Sharpay exclaims as she jumps out of her seat with a shocked look on her face. "You...you mean this is real?!"

"Of course, Miss Evans."

"But that's crazy! You're crazy! No sane person would agree to this", Sharpay shouts as she runs for the door, nearly tripping in her haste.

Before Charles Niquist can react properly, she is already out the door which is still vibrating from being slammed with such force.

"This is going to be more difficult than I anticipated", Niquist mumbles.

TBC

Here's what I have to say about that...

Okay, here's the next chapter. Now I'll go back to Unlove You. I've decided I'll write two chapters of Unlove You to every one chapter of Baby. BTW, I don't really like the title of this one; anybody got any suggestions?

As you can probably tell, there's a lot of internal dialogue in this story --- mostly from Sharpay's POV. Hope that's not confusing. I use italics for thoughts, emphasis and phone conversations for the person not in the room.

The Dancing Cat is, of course, the nightclub from Cheetah Girls 2.


	4. Chapter 3:  Reality Sets In

**Baby for Sale**

Disclaimer: I only own this plot. I do not own High School Musical or Hello Kitty.

**Chapter 3: Reality Sets In**

_Before Charles Niquist can react properly, she is already out the door which is still vibrating from being slammed with such force._

_"This is going to be more difficult than I anticipated", Niquist mumbles. _

Sharpay fumbles with the key in her apartment, her hands shaking slightly in the process. _ I can't believe they actually expected me to ... unngh! _ It's a horribly hot August day in the city and for once, Sharpay is grateful that Kelsi will have the air conditioner set to arctic conditions. Therefore, she is extremely surprised when she opens the door and a blast of hot air hits her right in the face. _ It must be 90 degrees in here. What's wrong with Kelsi? Is she crazy? _

She slams the door shut and immediately turns around to lock the four deadbolt locks into place. This is New York City, after all. Sharpay stumbles into her apartment and immediately drops her keys and her pink Hello Kitty purse on the small table by the door. _Maybe she's finally killed that ancient air conditioner._ Sharpay stalks over to it and turns it on full blast. Then, she opens her arms out wide and relishes the feel of the icy air as it hits her sweat soaked face. She slowly rotates her body in order to feel the cool air on her back. As she is standing with her back to the window looking out over the not-so-great room, it suddenly occurs to her that something's wrong ... something's missing. The wall next to their tiny television is strangely bare. The piano! Kelsi's piano is gone! _Kelsi's gone. How could I have forgotten that?_

Quickly, she checks her watch and sees that it's almost eleven o'clock in the morning. Kelsi's flight is supposed to leave at noon. She must already be at the airport, but it's not too late to call her before the flight boards. Sharpay walks back over to the table where she sat her purse and picks it up. She sighs deeply as she remembers how Kelsi gave her the Hello Kitty purse for her birthday six months ago as a joke because Sharpay's favorite color is pink. It was really on a dare that she actually started carrying it. Flipping back Kitty's head, she starts to dig through looking for her phone.

_"Hello?"_

"Kels, it's me. I'm so glad I caught you before you left", Sharpay says as she flops back onto the sofa.

_"Sharpay! What happened to you last night? Chad and I were dancing and then, when we came back to the table, you were gone."_

"Chad? What are you talking about? Chad was with me", she says.

_"No, no ... the one with the curly hair was named Chad. He brought me to the airport. The other one, ... his name was ... well, I don't remember his name. It's not important anyway."_

"It's important to me! We, um, sort of spent the night together, Kels", Sharpay whispers into the phone, even though she is sitting in an empty apartment.

_"You did what? You, Miss Dedicated to My Craft, No Time for Fun, Evans, spent the night with a guy? A guy, I might add, whom you don't even know and you got his name wrong. Didn't he say anything when you called him by the wrong name?"_

"Uggg, this isn't helping Kelsi. And, um, we didn't exactly do a lot of talking, okay?"

_"Hey, Shar. I'd really __**love**__ to hear more about your evening and I'll call you when I get back home, but my plane's about to board, so I have to run. Oh, and sorry about the bills, but we spent all the money my mom sent on the booze and stuff last night. So, bye. Okay?"_

"Yeah ... yeah. Bye Kelsi. I'm gonna really miss you", Sharpay stares at the picture of her best friend on her phone before slowly closing it.

_Wow, this is it. I'm really and truly on my own now._ She sits back and looks around the room contemplating her next move. _Chad! Or whatever his name is. How am I supposed to find him now? Oh, hi. I'm looking for one of your students. He's a senior; I don't know what his major is or his name, but I know it's not Chad. ... Yeah, that'll work._

Just then, her depressing thoughts are interrupted by a loud knock at the door. Trudging over, she looks through the hazy peep-hole to see her flamboyant landlady.

Throwing open all the locks, she opens the door for Mrs. Darbus. She is standing there with a stack of envelopes, gripping them tightly with her gaudily bejeweled fingers.

"Felicia!", Sharpay exclaims to the older woman. After their recent two hour bonding session, Mrs. Darbus had insisted that Sharpay call her by her first name; although, Sharpay thinks she saw Mrs. Darbus flinch slightly when she used her given name. "Please, come in. How have you been?"

"Miss Evans ... ", Mrs. Darbus hisses as she adjusts her over-sized glasses, more for effect than anything else.

"Is there a problem, Felicia?", Sharpay asks in a falsely cheerful voice.

Mrs. Darbus walks in and looks around the room with more than a casual glance. Then, she turns to Sharpay and shoves the envelopes at her.

"The mailman gave these to me to deliver. It appears that no one has checked your mailbox in over three days and it's overflowing with bills. Most of which are marked as _overdue_, incidentally."

"Oh ...", Sharpay says as she accepts the envelopes. "Thanks for bringing them to me. I really appreciate it; that was so nice of you. Would you like to stay for a cup of tea?", Sharpay chirps merrily. _Oh boy, I'm really laying it on thick._

"I saw the music store rental truck here earlier this morning, Miss Evans. They were loading up your roommate's piano. Then, she left a few minutes later with a curly-haired black man who was carrying her very large suitcase. Is he her new boyfriend? Has she moved in with him, Miss Evans?"

"What!?", Sharpay asks incredulously, "Oh no, he was only taking her to the airport." As soon as the words leave her mouth, she knows she's made a huge mistake.

"Oh r-e-a-l-l-y? She's taking a little vacation; I take it."

"Um ... no, not really. You see ... Kelsi's decided to move back home to Albuquerque."

"I see. Were you planning on finding another roommate to help you with the rent, Miss Evans?"

"Well, I haven't really had time to think about that, but it seems like a good idea. Do you have anyone in mind?", she asks hopefully.

"Yes, I do, actually. A young couple just put in an application this morning. They're very upscale; already working in the industry and they are prepared to move in at the end of this week."

"A couple? But this place is barely large enough for two. There's no way there's room for three adults", Sharpay says, still oblivious to what Darbus is actually saying.

"Exactly, Miss Evans. Your rent was due two weeks ago. I know I said you could have an extra week, but it doesn't look to me like you have any way of coming up with the money. Am I right?"

Sharpay just stares at her with a hopeless look on her face.

"That's what I thought", Mrs. Darbus continues smugly. "I expect you to be moved out by Friday afternoon. That's only two days, Miss Evans. Make it happen!" With that she whips one end of her long, flowing scarf back over her shoulder as she flawlessly executes a dramatic exit from the room.

"What am I going to do?"

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Troy is awkwardly trying to balance his lunch tray which is overflowing with food and a can of Jolt cola with his backpack full of books which keeps trying to fall off his shoulder. He puts the tray down at one of the few empty tables in the crowded cafeteria; then, he throws his backpack in one of the seats and flops down into the other. He's dead tired and has a headache that feels like its pounding a hole in his head. Troy really needs some caffeine. He takes a deep breath and is just about to take a sip of cola when Chad comes up behind him.

"Troy, my man! What happened to you last night?", Chad exclaims as he grabs one of the other chairs at the table and twisting it around backwards straddles it as he sits down. "Kelsi and I were dancing and when we came back to the table you and Charlene were gone."

"Charlene? I thought her name was Charlotte", he asks in confusion.

"Well, it was pretty loud in there. I could have heard wrong, I guess. Anyway, Kelsi and I ended up going to some all night diner for breakfast around five when the club closed. Then, I went with her back to her place."

Troy takes a huge bite out of his giant bacon double cheeseburger and follows it immediately with a swig of Jolt cola. He didn't realize how hungry he really was. Well, he did miss breakfast in the big rush to get back to his room and grab his books for classes.

"Really?...", Troy questions wryly as he swishes the soda around in his mouth.

Chad is definitely a player and it's not at all unusual for him to not come back to the fraternity house for days at a time. Troy has no idea how he passes his classes.

"Naw man, not like that. She was moving back to New Mexico and she needed help finishing her packing and then, I went with her to the airport to catch her flight. I came straight from there. How 'bout you? Where'd you and blondie run off to?"

"Um ... Brooklyn, actually."

"Brooklyn? Why'd you go there?", Chad asks as he reaches over to snatch a fry off Troy's plate.

"I have no earthly idea. I'm ... ah, not sure how we got there exactly. We were both pretty wasted, but we woke up together in a hotel in Brooklyn this morning. I missed my eight o'clock class", he finishes with a loud sigh.

"You? I'm shocked and appalled at such behavior, young man", Chad says sarcastically.

"Yeah, I know, man; this is the first time I've ever had a one night stand", he says solemnly.

"No, not that. I'm proud of you about that. I'm shocked that you skipped a class."

"Ha ha. But seriously, now I'm stuck. I'd like to see her again, but I forgot to get her number or even her last name. I'm really screwed, Chad."

Troy looks up to see that Chad isn't even paying attention to him anymore. Instead, he is staring at a table across the room with three girls who are having lunch together. They are all dressed in business suits and jackets --- very unusual for college students. Troy figures they are either business majors or pre-law.

Troy waves his hand in front of his friend's face. "Chad? Hey, earth to Chad. Were you even listening to me?"

"What? Oh yeah, man ... sure ... that's a great idea", Chad mumbles, having absolutely no idea what his friend just said.

One of the girls at the table rises and picks up her tray. She is attractive with full lips and shoulder length straightened black hair. Her skin tone is slightly darker than Chad's caramel colored skin and she is dressed professionally in a navy blazer and khaki skirt.

"Hey Troy, my man, I gotta get goin'. That's Taylor; I met her at the bookstore last week and I've been trying to hook up with her ever since", Chad explains as he stands up, all the while watching the girl.

"She looks a little out of your league, Chad."

"Hey, I'm not the one who likes my women _a little on the trashy side_", he counters back. "Besides, those smart ones know stuff, if you get my drift and they're aren't just about the whole '_how good do I look wearing this, Chad'_", he finishes in a high-pitched, falsetto voice.

"Hey, I don't always like trashy women; that girl last night wasn't trashy; she was cute."

"Uh, huh. So's a mountain lion until you pet them", Chad comments as he points towards Troy's neck. "Looks like your cute girl got a little rough with you, man. You're sportin' a sizable hickey there."

Troy self-consciously reaches up to his neck. He can't actually feel anything, but he does remember something.

_"You aren't going to bite me, are you?", Troy asks the tiny blonde who is currently lying on top of him and peppering little kisses on his neck._

_She lifts her head up slightly to answer him. "Who me? I wouldn't do something like that. That would be so high schoolish." With that she continues her assault on his neck._

_"High schoolish? Is that a real word?", Troy asks huskily._

_"You talk too much, B-man."_

_"Well, just watch the teeth because otherwise, you'll have to be punished", Troy says teasingly._

_She lifts up on her elbows to look him in the eye. "Mmmm, is that a threat ... or a promise?" _

_"Oh, that's definitely a promise."_

_She plunges back down to his pulse point and within seconds, he lets out a yelp when she nips him with her teeth._

_"You've done it now!", he exclaims as he flips them over so he's on top._

Now it's Chad turn to do the hand waving. "Troy! ... Troy?"

Troy blinks quickly as he comes back to the present.

"Where were you, man?", Chad asks with concern.

"Someplace nicer than here, that's for sure."

"Well, I'm outta here. I'll see you later, back at the house, okay?"

"Sure Chad, but just one question. Business or pre-law?", Troy asks, referring to the well-dressed girl.

"Oh ... she's gonna be one of the country's top lawyers one of these days. You mark my words. ... Hey, how'd you know?"

"Just a lucky guess."

Taylor is walking out the door so without another word, Chad rushes off to catch up with her. Troy glances down at his watch and curses under his breath as he hurries to dump his tray and run out for his next class.

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The sun is trying to blast it's way through the dirty windows and Sharpay groans as she buries her head under the pillow. She tossed and turned most of the night and finally dozed off only about an hour previously. She doesn't even understand why she's awake; she certainly doesn't want to be. Slowly, she becomes aware of an insistent rapping at her door.

_Oh, that explains why I'm awake. Who could possibly be here so early?_

She stumbles out of bed and towards the front door. Not until she reaches it, does she look down and realize she is only wearing her over-sized sleeping shirt and her hair feels like a mess from all the tossing she's done throughout the night. Sharpay stands on her tip-toes since she's in her bare feet and doesn't have the added height of her shoes. She looks through the peep hole and sees ... her mother?

_Oh God, how can my mom be here?_

She quickly throws back the bolts and flings open the door. Sharpay and her mother hadn't parted on the best of terms, but that didn't mean she didn't still love her and wasn't very excited to see her. Unfortunately, the happy expression on her face quickly turns sad and then confused as she stares at the woman standing there in front of her. She is the same height as Sharpay with the same shade of brown eyes and the same skin tone. Her hair is ashe blonde (dyed, no doubt) and swept up into a elegant bun. She is wearing an expensive powder blue Carte suit with a skirt. Her matching beige Prada pumps and handbag complete the ensemble. She is classy, but understated. This isn't her mother; however, she does bare a striking resemblance to her and so Sharpay quickly realizes exactly who she is before she even says a word.

"Sharpay Evans? Hello, I'm Cynthia Vanderbilt. I think we need to talk."

TBC

Here's what I have to say about that...

Oh my, what's going to happen to poor Sharpay.? Is Mrs. Darbus going to kick her out onto the streets or can she find another solution?

What about poor Troy? Will he ever find Charlotte or Charlene or whatever the heck her name is?

And who could Chad possibly be referring to when he said 'You like your women a little on the trashy side'? I'll give you one guess --- starts with a G.

Until next time, please R & R.


	5. Chapter 4: Big Decisions and Near Misses

**Baby for Sale**

Disclaimer: I only own this plot. I do not own High School Musical.

**Chapter 4: Big Decisions and Near Misses**

_"Sharpay Evans? Hello, I'm Cynthia Vanderbilt. I think we need to talk."_

Sharpay is too stunned to speak; she continues to stand there blankly.

"Miss Evans? May I come in?", Cynthia Vanderbilt asks politely.

"Mrs. Vanderbilt? Oh, I'm sorry. Please", Sharpay stumbles out as she ushers the elegant older woman into the apartment.

"Please, call me Cynthia", she says as enters. Cynthia looks around the room in poorly disguised disdain.

There is a awkward moment of silence until Sharpay breaks it by saying, "Um ... do you mind if I go change clothes?" She vaguely indicates her rumpled sleeping shirt.

"Of course not, dear. I'm sorry my arrival was such a surprise; I tried to call, but your cell phone company said your phone had been disconnected."

Sharpay unconsciously glances over to the stack of bills lying on the table. _ I wonder how long before the electricity is cut off. _With that in mind, she hurries off to the bathroom.

"I'll just be a minute. Please, make yourself at home."

When Cynthia is alone, she wrinkles her nose in distaste and mutters under her breath, "I don't think that's possible."

When Sharpay reenters the room, ten minutes later, she is wearing comfortable shorts and a t-shirt, and her hair is combed out and tangle free and her face is scrubbed clean.

"What do you take in your tea, dear?", Cynthia asks from where she's standing in the tiny kitchen.

"Oh, well, ... milk and honey, but I don't think we have any milk."

"Well, you're partially right; you have milk, but the expiration date was three weeks ago. I threw it out", Mrs. Vanderbilt tells her as she brings two cups of tea over to the table, then she retrieves the quaint little bear shaped bottle containing honey and two spoons.

"Have a seat, dear", Cynthia insists when Sharpay just continues to stand in the doorway.

_Hey, wait a minute. This is my apartment; why is she playing hostess? mental sigh I guess a little tea won't hurt anything._

They each prepare their tea in silence and Sharpay starts to sip the sweet warm liquid while Cynthia sits studying the younger woman. Cynthia reaches her hand over to gently place a loose strand of hair back behind Sharpay's ear.

"The resemblance is amazing. It's like looking in a mirror", Cynthia comments while she continues to scrutinize Sharpay.

"That's what I thought when I looked at your picture too. In fact I told Mr. Niquist that you look just like my mo..." The icy glare that Mrs. Vanderbilt starts to direct her way causes Sharpay is stop talking immediately as the sudden need for a sip of tea circumvents everything.

"Well, your resemblance to me is, after all, why we chose you", Cynthia explains, satsified that her death glare hasn't lost its touch.

"Yes, I understand that, but I couldn't possibly ..."

"I understand that this would be a huge undertaking for you, but please think about what it would mean for us", Mrs. Vanderbilt gushes with sincerity. _ It would mean receiving all of Uncle Cecil's fortune and enough nannies to raise the brat that we'll never even have to see it._

"But...", Sharpay starts.

"Sharpay, please take a moment and listen to me...", Cynthia says as she starts the speech she has been rehearsing for the past two days.

"Thomas and I have been married for fifteen years. It was always a dream of mine to have a houseful of rowdy children. Unfortunately, when I was only twenty-five I was diagnosed with cervical cancer and was forced to have a complete hysterectomy."

"I'm so sorry", Sharpay whispers sympathetically.

"I was devastated", Mrs. Vanderbilt chokes out while a well-planned tear makes its way from the corner of her eye. "My dream of motherhood ended before it had a chance to start. Have you ever had a dream, Miss Evans?"

"Um ... yeah, I have."

"And have you been blessed enough and lucky enough to have your dream come true?" She's taking a calculated risk, but Cynthia is brilliant at reading people and she's pretty sure this girl is at the end of her rope.

"No", is all Sharpay can say. Her throat is getting tight and her vision slightly foggy, but she's not sure if it's sympathy she's feeling while hearing this poor woman's story or self-pity for her own.

"Well, then we can relate, can't we?"

"Relatively speaking, my problems don't even seem like real problems compared to yours. But I don't understand, why don't you just adopt?"

"Unfortunately, in the social circles in which we travel, an adopted child would be looked upon with contempt. He or she would never be accepted. And ... and well, this may sound silly, but I'd like to be as much a part of the pregnancy as possible. I'd like to be there every step of the way from conception (so to speak) to delivery." _ There, that'll get her._

"So, if I agreed to this, and it's a big if, I would live with you?", Sharpay asks hesitantly.

"Yes", Cynthia answers excitedly. "You will live with my husband, Thomas, and me in our penthouse on Central Park West. We want things to be as pleasant for you as possible. You'll have your own apartment within the penthouse with your own kitchen, living area, bedroom and bath. Of course, if you choose, you may dine and socialize with us. As I mentioned, I really want to feel a part of this whole pregnancy. Oh and you'll receive the finest medical care available. We'll hire an OB/GYN to monitor you right there at the penthouse."

"And afterwards ... what happens then?

"After the child is born, we'll provide a warm and loving environment to someone for whom we have waited over ten years. Oh, and of course, we'll provide you with $50,000 cash."

Sharpay nods in understanding. "Would ... would I ever see the baby?", Sharpay whispers. _ I can't believe I'm seriously considering this._

_I knew it; she's seriously considering this. _"If you would like, I think that could be arranged. However, it would have to be in the capacity of a dear friend of the family. The child or anyone else, for that matter, may never know of the true nature of your involvement", Cynthia explains, honestly for once. "Charles Niquist insists that you sign a confidentiality clause. You must never discuss any of this with anyone even if you decide to not help us."

"I understand; I'll never tell anyone", Sharpay says with resignation.

"Does that mean you'll help?", Cynthia asks expectantly.

Sharpay takes a deep breath and after slowly looking around her run-down apartment and her growing stack of unpaid bills, she slowly exhales and while looking Cynthia Vanderbilt square in the face, says, "I'll do it on one condition."

"Yes?"

"I'll need some of the money now. ... I have some bills I need to pay. You can take it out of the final payment, of course."

"How much money are you talking about, Sharpay?"

"Um, let me see. She quickly grabs the stack of bills and the calculator off the counter and starts entering numbers as she sorts through the stack.

Cynthia is just starting to look bored when Sharpay announces, "$1,075.43, is that too much?"

Cynthia has to struggle to not snicker at the poor girl. The outfit she's wearing cost more than that. "Of course not, Sharpay. That's not a problem. In fact", she adds as she flips out her cell phone and makes a call, "I can have it here in minutes."

Actually, it was less than two minutes, when a tall, broad shouldered, young man in a chauffeur's uniform arrived at the door. He handed Cynthia a small zippered pouch while tipping his hat to Sharpay.

"Sharpay, this is Brenden; he's my driver", she explains. She then, opens the pouch and quickly counts out $1,100. "Now, how much of this goes to pay that old windbag I passed walking up here?"

"That's Mrs. Darbus and I owe her $750 for rent."

"Brenden; be a dear and go take care of that. Here Sharpay, take the rest; there's $350 here; you may keep the change."

Thirty minutes later, Sharpay has her suitcase packed (she doesn't own that much) and is sitting in Mrs. Vanderbilt's limousine. The last time she rode in the back of one of these was to her grandmother's funeral, but this limousine is nothing like the one from the funeral home. It's immaculately clean, of course, and black leather upholstery is so shiny and treated that Sharpay feels like she's about to slip off. She is sitting on the bench seat with Mrs. Vanderbilt and directly in front of them is a small television and a wet bar.

"Thomas will be thrilled to meet you, dear", Cynthia gushes. She's been gushing for the past twenty minutes. It's starting to get on Sharpay's nerves. "Tomorrow we'll go see Dr. Matsui. He runs the finest fertility clinic in the country. They'll determine when's the best time to do the implantation. Charles Niquist will meet us at the penthouse to have you sign the contract, which includes that confidentiality clause I mentioned. Of course, you won't be able to contact anyone or let anyone know where you are or what you're doing, either. I hope you understand."

"Sure", Sharpay says quietly. _It's not like I have anyone to contact anyway, except for NotChad and I don't even know how to find him. _It must have been last night when she was stuck in her apartment and feeling sorry for herself that she came up with a name for her mystery lover, NotChad. A small smile appears on her face as she gazes out the window watching the rain dribble its way down the glass and she reaches her finger up to slowly trace one raindrop's journey to the bottom.

_"Hey, where are you going?", he asks huskily when he feels her move away from him._

_"Shower", she mumbles as she disentangles herself from the bedsheets and starts toward the small bathroom._

_"So, this is it?", he asks with a disappointed rise to his voice._

_"What?", she stops and looks at him in confusion. "Of course not, don't you want to join me?"_

_"In the shower?", he clarifies, just to make sure._

_"Absolutely", Sharpay confirms._

_He jumps up to join her and pulls Sharpay into a heated kiss. Then, with her back toward the bathroom, he starts to slowly walk her backwards while continuing their aggressive battle of teeth and tongues..._

"We're here", Cynthia calls out causing Sharpay to jerk her hand away from the window in surprise.

She looks around and sees they're in an underground parking garage and Brenden is holding the door open for Mrs. Vanderbilt.

They take a private elevator directly into the penthouse and Sharpay silently follows Mrs. Vanderbilt into the glamorous apartment. Charles Niquist and another man are waiting for them and immediately rise when the two ladies enter. Sharpay is instantly self-conscious about her appearance. She is still wearing the same comfortable shorts and t-shirt that she put on in her apartment. _Correction, Sharpay. You don't live there anymore, so it's not your apartment; now is it? _

The second man is approximately forty years old and very fashionably dressed, but what strikes Sharpay most are his strikingly familiar crystal blue eyes.

"Hello, I'm Thomas Vanderbilt and you, of course, are Sharpay", Thomas greets her with a friendly handshake and then, impulsively and surprisingly, pulls her into a deep hug. Sharpay is stunned by his unexpected familiarity and doesn't know how to react.

Cynthia is shooting him death glares from behind Sharpay's back, so Thomas reluctantly pulls back and covers this movement by appearing to take a long, studious look at her.

"Cynthia, darling, you're absolutely right; the resemblance is amazing. This is exactly how you looked in college. Well, of course, in my mind, that's how you still look, my dear." Thomas has let go of Sharpay and walked over to Cynthia as he ends his little speech. Then, he takes her romantically into his arms and dips her down while giving her a quick kiss on the lips. While they are still dipped, he whispers into her ear, "Doesn't this bring back wonderful memories,_ darling_?"

She growls lowly back at him, "Don't push your luck, _dear_."

"Yes, well", Charles Niquist says as he clears his throat, "When you two are quite ready, we do have some paperwork that needs to be finalized."

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Troy trudges into the room he shares with Chad and flops back onto his bed. Chad is just taking out some taquitos from their small microwave and whirls around when he sees Troy.

"Hey, dude, what are you doing here, now? Don't you have class?", he says checking his watch.

"I can't concentrate, Chad. This girl is driving me crazy", Troy moans.

"You mean GiGi?", Chad comments wryly as his pops open a can of soda and settles down at the small table with his lunch. "What'd she do, give you more naughty pictures of herself? I got to admit that really surprised me, man. I mean just out of the blue ... she hands you these ..."

"Her_ name_ is Gabriella, Chad. And don't talk about those pictures anymore. God, Chad don't you know how much trouble you got me in ... what were you thinking ... posting those things on the internet? Are you crazy?"

"I said I was sorry", Chad replies in a whipped puppy voice.

"Anyway, it's not her I'm worried about. It's Charlotte ... or Charlene. She's all I think about and I don't even know how to find her."

"Why don't you just go to her apartment? You know, for a smart guy, sometimes you..."

"Chad...", Troy says wearily, "I don't even know her name. What makes you think I know where she lives?"

"Simple. You just ask me", Chad says with his mouth stuffed full of tortilla chips.

Troy's eyes pop open and he jumps off the bed in a split second. "What are you talking about, Chad? You know where she lives? Why didn't you tell me?", he asks anxiously.

"Ya never asked. 'Member I took her roommate home? You know she was a lot of fun. Wished I'd gotten her phone number..."

"Chad! ... Focus, man! Where . Does . She . Live?"

"Okay, okay, ... You know for a normally, calm and collected guy, you ..."

"Chad!", Troy snaps.

"Greenwich Village, dude. I'll take you there after classes. "

"You'll take me there ... now!", Troy exclaims.

Forty-seven minutes later, Troy and Chad breathlessly arrive at Sharpay's apartment.

"You sure this is it, Chad?", Troy asks as he stands in front of her door with his hands on his knees, breathing heavily.

"Yeah man, I'm sure", Chad replies as he leans back against the wall in the hallway in exhaustion. Troy forced him to sprint from the subway and he's trying to slow his breathing.

Troy takes a deep breath and prepares to knock on the door. It isn't closed completely and creaks opens when his knuckle hits it. Troy cautiously steps through the door.

"Hello?"

"One mo---ment", calls a sing-song feminine voice from the other room.

Chad joins Troy in the small room and a few seconds later, a tall woman appears from the other room. She is wearing a large flowery blouse which she has tied around her waist and a brightly colored bandanna on her head to hold back her ashe blond hair. In one hand she is carrying a bucket full of cleaning supplies and in the other a dripping toilet brush.

She looks at the two young men suspiciously and says disappointedly, "Oh ... I thought you were my new tenants."

"Um ... no. Actually, I'm looking for the girl who lives here. She's short, about this high", he raises his hand up to just below his shoulder, "has long blond hair."

"She doesn't live here anymore. Miss Evans paid her final rent payment today and left about two hours ago with an older woman who looked remarkably like her. I believe it was her mother."

"What?", Troy sounds defeated.

"Now, if that's all, _gentlemen_", Mrs. Darbus says politely, but the_ gentlemen _is tinged with sarcasm. "I have a lot to do to get ready for my tenants."

"Yes ma'am, I understand, but did she leave a forwarding address or anything?", Troy asks desperately.

"No. She didn't", Mrs. Darbus snaps, "Now, if you'll excuse me..."

Chad steps up to Troy's side. "Come on, man. We're wasting our time here", he says as he gently pulls his friend away.

Once they're back out on the street, Troy slumps down wearily on the front stoop of the building with a defeated sigh.

"I missed her by two hours, Chad. ... Only two hours ... What am I going to do now?"

TBC

Here's what I have to say about that...

Hope everyone got the thinly veiled reference to Miss Hudgen's latest 15-minutes of fame. I couldn't resist. I mean, come on, people, if you're contracted to the pinnacle of family entertainment in the entire world, you think you ought to have enough sense not to do something like that. Oh, well...

Please R & R.

Well, it's pretty obvious that Baby won the vote, but only by one. It was really close. As soon as I get this posted, I'll get straight to work on Why? Ooooo, back to the dark side.


	6. Ch 5:  Why does coffee match your eyes

**Baby for Sale**

Disclaimer: I only own this plot. I do not own High School Musical.

_Last time..._

_Once they're back out on the street, Troy slumps down wearily on the front stoop of the building with a defeated sigh. _

_"I missed her by two hours, Chad. ... Only two hours ... What am I going to do now?"_

**Chapter 5: Why does my coffee match the color of your eyes?**

Two weeks later...

Sharpay and Cynthia enter a plush office and Cynthia gives Sharpay's hand a reassuring squeeze. Sharpay looks nervous and a little pale as Mrs. Vanderbilt guides her over a chair.

"Just have a seat and I'll check you in", Cynthia tells her. "Don't worry; every thing's going to be fine and remember, you're doing to right thing."

"Oh sure, I know", Sharpay responds, "but I'm just a little nervous."

"Just relax, dear." Cynthia gives her a final squeeze and walks up to the receptionist's desk.

"Sharpay Evans is here to see Dr. Matsui", Mrs. Vanderbilt announces to the receptionist.

"Of course, we'll call her back in a few minutes", replies the young woman sitting at the desk.

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Chad and Taylor walk into the crowded student cafeteria together and start automatically looking for a couple of empty chairs to drop their backpacks on. They had their first real date the previous Saturday night and Chad can't wipe the smile off his face. _She's the one; she's definitely the one._

They haven't done anything more than share a goodnight kiss, but Chad knows Taylor is the one he can see himself with in ten years. This is definitely the start of something new.

While continuing to scan the large room, Chad lets out a mournful groan when he spots his roommate sitting alone in a corner.

"What's wrong?", Taylor asks with concern.

"It's Troy. I'm really worried about him, Tay", Chad says as he indicates the figure over in the far corner. "Hey, I'm sorry babe, but I really need to talk to him. Can I meet you later?"

"Sure, no problem. I'll be at the library tonight, researching a paper. I'll be in the law section on sub-level five ... if you want to meet me there?", she asks insecurely.

"Are you kidding me?", Chad says in exaggerated enthusiasm, "There is nothing I love better than studying in the library late at night. ... Not really, but I do love spending time with you and if you're at the library, then so am I."

With that, Chad leans over and gives her a chaste peck on the cheek and walks over to help his friend. Taylor drifts over to the lunch line with a huge smile on her face.

"Troy, my man, what _are_ you doing?", Chad asks as he sits down next to Troy at the small table.

Troy has five cups of coffee lined up on the table and he's holding a medicine dropper in one hand and slowly dropping cream into the fourth cup in the line. Troy is so engrossed in his task that he doesn't even notice that Chad has joined him.

"That's it! I've finally got it!", he exclaims to no one in particular.

_Her eyes are screwed shut in concentration as she rises and falls above him. Troy is holding tightly to her hips and lifting himself up to meet her thrusts._

_"Open your eyes", Troy commands forcefully._

_She pops open her eyes in response and asks, "What?", with a breathy moan._

_"Your eyes ... they're beautiful", he says sincerely._

_She doesn't respond; instead, she rotates her hips slowly which causes of them close their eyes simultaneously as they succumb to their mutual pleasure._

"Troy!", Chad calls to him in a frantic whisper, "People are staring. And what in the world are you doing, anyway?"

Troy looks up, noticing his friend for the first time.

"Chad, when did you get here? Well, anyway, check this out. This cup here", Troy says excitedly, pointing to the fourth cup that he was just doctoring. "Isn't it beautiful, man?"

"Uh?"

"The color of the coffee, Chad. It's exactly the same shade as her eyes", Troy says with a sigh.

Troy didn't have to say whose eyes to which he was referring. It's the same girl that he's been moping around about for the past two weeks --- that little blond from the nightclub.

"Troy ... you've got to get a grip!", Chad implores him. "She's gone. She's gone and you don't know where and you don't even know her name. Man, you're my best friend and I can't stand to see this eating away at you. There is nothing you can do about it. Please, for your own sake, give it up!"

"I can't, Chad. I love her", Troy moans as if he's in physical pain.

"Dude, I can't believe I'm saying this, but you really need to concentrate on school. This is our senior year. If you screw up because of some girl, your life is screwed too."

"She's not just some girl, Chad. She's_ the_ girl." Troy pushes himself back from the table and anxiously runs his hand through his hair. "Ugh, but maybe you're right. It's not going to do me any good if I fluke out."

"Good to hear", Chad says encouragingly.

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Sharpay is sitting on the paper-covered examining table, waiting for the doctor. It's cold in the sterile room and it makes her feel even more nervous. She's given up trying to read the magazines that the doctor's office has provided for their patients. Everyone of them is about pregnancy or childrearing or families and it's all too overwhelming and depressing for her since she'll essentially be selling her baby. _My baby... I've got to stop thinking of it as mine. It's going to be Vanderbilt's. They want it; they'll love it. Like Cynthia said, I'm doing the right thing. _

The door opens and a middle-aged Asian man comes in, followed by an older woman in a nurses smock.

"Sharpay...it's so good to see you again", the man says in a friendly tone.

"Dr. Matsui...", Sharpay says to the man who is wearing a white lab coat and carrying a clipboard.

"This is Mrs. Pratscher and she'll be my assistant during the procedure", Dr. Matsui explains as he introduces the older nurse. She has a very kind face and she instantly makes Sharpay feel more comfortable.

The doctor continues, "I see you came in yesterday for your hCG shot." He is referring to the chart he's holding.

"Yes, sir", Sharpay replies quietly.

During Sharpay's first appointment, two weeks ago, the doctor explained that she would need to receive an injection a hCG or Human Chorionic Gonadotropin. hCG is a hormone that is typically produced in a pregnant woman's placenta. It is often used to help trigger ovulation and can help to increase a woman's chances of pregnancy.

"Good ... good. Now as I explained two weeks ago, I'm going in insert a speculum into your vagina. It will feel very much like a normal gynecological exam. Then, I'll insert a catheter with a syringe containing the concentrated donor sperm through the cervix and directly into your uterus. The sperm are injected and the catheter and the speculum will be removed. There should 't be any pain. Do you understand?"

Once again, Sharpay replies quietly, "Yes, sir."

"Good. Now, please lie back and we'll get started."

Sharpay turns her head to the side and tries to think about something else when she feels his gloved hands touch her. It's the same technique she uses during her annual GYN exams. However, she's immediately brought back to the present by the doctor's use of a expletive.

"Damn", he hisses under his breath.

"What's wrong?", Sharpay asks anxiously.

"Nothing", the doctor says as he straightens up nervously.

"Doctor?", the nurse asks with concern.

"Nurse ... come with me", he orders sternly.

"Doctor, what's going on?", Sharpay asks in a panicked voice as she starts to sit up.

"Nothing to concern yourself about, Miss Evans. We'll be right back ... just relax."

The doctor and nurse quickly leave the room.

"Relax? ...", Sharpay complains as tries to get comfortable while lying on her back on a cold examining table with her feet up in stirrups and her rear barely hanging on the edge of the table. "Yeah, right", she adds sarcastically.

Sharpay can hear forced whispers coming from outside the door, but she can't make out what they're saying. A few minutes later, the doctor and nurse come back into the room. Sharpay thinks she sees a look of concern and worry in the nurse's eyes when they lock with hers, but the doctor's expression is unreadable.

"Sorry for the delay, Miss Evans. Let's proceed, shall we?"

TBC

Here's what I have to say about that...

Boy, it feels good to be back in the swing of things with my writing. I'm going to try to start updating more regularly again. Of course, you know how to insure that don't you? Yep, it's by leaving a review.

Hope you like this chapter. I actually did a lot of research on artificial insemination and found out there's a lot more to it than just some quiet time alone with your turkey baster. Ewww, that statement was made particularly gross by the timing of Thanksgiving next week. Let's see how many of you think about that one when you're eating Grandma's turkey dinner.

If you haven't figured it out yet, I'm trying to go back and forth between Troy and Sharpay in each chapter and have them remember through flashbacks a small part of their night together. I write that part in italics. I'm not sure how much longer I can continue this. I mean they were only together for a few hours --- how many times could they have done it?


	7. Chapter 6:  Life Goes On

**Baby for Sale**

Disclaimer: I only own this plot. I do not own High School Musical.

_Previously on Baby for Sale..._

_"Sorry for the delay, Miss Evans. Let's proceed, shall we?"_

**Chapter 6: Life Goes On**

Four weeks later...

_Maybe if I just don't move..._ Sharpay is lying with her head resting on the cool marble floor of her luxurious private bathroom. However, right now she doesn't care that the floor is made from imported Italian marble or that the shower has six different massaging heads that vigorously massage your body at the custom heat setting of your choice. Right now, all she cares about is doing something or nothing (if that will work) that will stop her stomach from churning. She's lost count of the number of mornings she's awoken like this --- heaving the meager contents of her stomach into the porcelain goddess.

Two weeks after the procedure with Dr. Matsui, she and Cynthia returned to verify her pregnancy. Dr. Matsui seemed strangely certain she was pregnant even before the blood test verified it. Therefore, here she is now, two weeks after that, puking her guts out every blasted morning.

_Should this be happening so soon?_ _I'm only six weeks pregnant, right? Four weeks since the implantation and add two more weeks because ... because that's the goofy way they count pregnancies. Cynthia seems to think it's a little early. And Cynthia would know, wouldn't she? Oh, quit complaining Sharpay, she's nice to you, isn't she? Maybe a little too nice ... a little too hovering - like a hummingbird. At least she's better than the husband ... ewww ... Thomas is ... well, just plain creepy. _

Despite Sharpay's initial attraction to him, which lasted all of five minutes, she now finds Thomas' leering very disturbing. _Admit it, girl, it was his eyes. They look just like..._

_Sharpay collapses down on his chest in sated exhaustion. _

_"_**My**_ eyes?", she mumbles into his shoulder. "There's nothing special about my eyes. They're just plain old brown. You're the one with the beautiful eyes."_

_They are still connected in that most imitate way and she raises herself up on her elbows in order to gaze down at said gorgeous eyes. He looks up at her, but doesn't say anything._

_Sharpay continues her adoration of his eyes. "They sparkle and shine like crystals. When I stare into them, it's like I'm looking into bottomless pools of blue heaven", she says with a dreamy sigh._

_He cracks a smile at that last comment. _

_"Let me guess... your favorite class in school is creative writing."_

_"Oh you! What a way to ruin a hokey moment! I'll get you!" With that she sits up, but remains straddle above him and starts to viciously tickle him in the ribs._

_"Hey! No fair!", he shouts back between his very unmanly-like giggles._

Despite feeling ill, Sharpay lets a small smile come to her face when she remembers how cute NotChad looked when she tickled him.

"Sharpay? ... Are you okay?", comes a concerned voice at the bathroom door.

_Oh no, it's The Hummingbird. Please don't come in here. Please..._

The door opens and Cynthia says, "Oh, you poor dear. Let's get you back to bed."

Cynthia comes rushing toward Sharpay and tries to lift her up.

"No! Please, don't move me. I'm fine right where I am", she pleads to the older woman while still keeping her eyes closed.

"Nonsense, Sharpay. Now I'm just going to help you up..."

Cynthia pulls Sharpay up to a sitting position and starts to lift her up further when she gets a good look at Sharpay's face and steps back just in time for Sharpay to throw up on her $200 Prada shoes.

Ten minutes later, Cynthia is nowhere to be seen and Sharpay is splashing cool water on her face from the nickel plated custom designed faucet which feeds into the uber-expensive clear-glass water basin. There is a terse rap on the door.

_I know _**that** _knock._

"Come in", Sharpay groans.

"I've been sent to tidy up, Miss Evans", announces an incredibly stiff man dressed in a dark three-piece suit and tie. He is a pudgy middle-aged man with small wire-rimmed glasses covering his small beady eyes.

"Good morning to you too, Fulton."

"That's _Mr._ Fulton, if you please", Fulton corrects her.

"Whatever... anyway, I've already cleaned everything ... except for Cynthia's shoes", Sharpay explains as she walks past Mr. Fulton and into the bedroom.

Unfortunately, Fulton follows her out.

"_Mrs._ Vanderbilt", Fulton says, implying, once again, that Sharpay should not be calling his employer by her first name, "has already disposed of her footwear. They weren't recoverable."

"It's her own fault; I told her not to move me."

"Look! Miss Evans!", Fulton exclaims in an exasperated tone, "I think you should be more appreciative of your benefactor. The fact that Mrs. Vanderbilt feels a certain camaraderie with you because you are both 'in the family way' is no reason for you to take advantage of the situation. Mrs. Vanderbilt continues to show what an upstanding woman she truly is by taking you in --- a homeless unwed mother."

Cynthia's cover story for Sharpay is that she is a poor, indigent girl whom the Vanderbilts have graciously allowed into their lives. Because Mrs. Vanderbilt is pretending to be pregnant, it makes her unexpected philanthropy more believable. That's one of the reasons that Sharpay is starting to dislike all of Cynthia's hovering. She's actually studying Sharpay so that she can more accurately carry off this fake pregnancy. For instance, when Sharpay complained that the smell of coffee made her nauseous, Cynthia dutifully stopped drinking the beverage and made a big show of how ill it made her feel at her ladies charity luncheon.

"Get out of my room, now!", Sharpay shouts back at Fulton.

He is so surprised by her outburst that he nearly trips as he stumbles back towards the door. Sharpay stalks towards him and Fulton quickly scrambles out into the hallway. She slams the bedroom door shut behind him and lets out a frustrated scream. Then, she runs across the room and dives onto the large king-sized bed so she can continue to scream into her pillow.

Six weeks down ... thirty-four to go.

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Troy quickly cuts in front of Chad and steals the basketball from him and then, dribbles it a few steps before shooting from an absurdly long distance toward the basket. Everyone stops suddenly to follow the flight of the ball with their eyes. Half-a-second later all you hear is the swoosh as the ball lands in the basket without even touching the rim.

"Yeeeaah!", shouts Troy in triumph, "nothing but net, man!"

Troy's teammates run up to give him high-five congratulations on the final shot of the game. Troy is basking in the glory of his victory. It doesn't matter that it's only a Sunday afternoon pick-up game. It's still a victory. Suddenly, he is nearly bowled over by an unknown assailant who wraps their arms tightly around his middle and squeals in an unearthly-high pitch directly into his ear.

"Oh Troy, that was wonderful, baby", shouts an exuberant dark-haired girl.

"Gi Gi, let the man breath, why don't you?", Chad offers in defense of his friend.

She pulls away from Troy and her eyes narrow to dangerous slits as she exclaims, "I _told _you to stop calling me that, Chad!"

"Calm down, Gabriella. You know he just says that because he knows it bothers you", Troy says in calm voice while signaling a silent 'thanks' to Chad for the interference.

"Okay, I'll try ... for you, baby", Gabriella says in a sultry voice as she drapes herself onto Troy.

"Gabriella, please. You don't want to touch me; I'm really sweaty."

"But I like sweaty, baby. It's a real turn-on", she coos as she rubs her body against his.

He gently, but firmly, takes her arms and puts them down by her side.

"Please, not now", he says with conviction.

"Then, when? You haven't let me near you for over a month. What's going on, Troy? I thought we had something special. I thought you were my 'happy ever-after'. What's changed? Have you found someone else?"

"I ... I don't know", Troy stumbles, "It's complicated."

"Then, until you can uncomplicate it, I don't think I want to see you anymore. So goodbye, Troy Bolton. Have a miserable life!", Gabriella shouts and then, turns around and storms off.

Chad walks up to comfort his friend.

"Well, that went better than I thought."

"Yeah, me too", Troy sighs in relief.

TBC

Here's what I have to say about that...

I'm so glad that most of you understand all about pregnancies now since you've read Unlove You, so I won't have a rehash how can she be six weeks pregnant, four weeks after the implantation.

Lots of people are speculating on the plot in their reviews. Well, you're just going to have to wait awhile to find out.

Couldn't resist making Fulton the butler. He just has that stuck-up butler look to him.


	8. Chapter 7: Desperately Seeking Sharpay

**Baby for Sale**

Disclaimer: I only own this plot. I do not own High School Musical.

_Previously on Baby for Sale..._

"_Well, that went better than I thought."_

_"Yeah, me too", Troy sighs in relief._

Chapter 7: Desperately Seeking Sharpay

Troy bounds into the room, tossing his well-worn backpack on the bed and rushes over to his closet where he grabs an empty gym bag. Then, he starts to stuff it full of clothes, taking no care whatsoever that they're all becoming wrinkled when he crams them into the bag.

Chad has been watching all this action from a chair on the other side of the room where he is sitting quietly, reading a book, well, a magazine, ... actually, a Maxim magazine. But hey, finals are over.

Troy looks up from his packing, "Chad, why are you still sitting there? Have you even starting packing yet?"

"Hey man, my last final was yesterday. I've _been _packed."

"Well, the flight leaves in three hours. We need to get going", Troy reminds him as he holds up the airline tickets.

"Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean ... how do you think you're going to find her, man?", Chad asks as he casually stands up and stretches.

"Well... we know her roommate flew home to Albuquerque --- since you took her to the airport and we know her last name is Evans --- her landlady told us that and her landlady also told us she left with her mother so she must have gone back to New Mexico too. So we're flying to Albuquerque and then, we'll just look through the phone book and check out every Evans in town", Troy finishes with pride at his flawless plan.

"You're crazy, ... but you're my best friend so I guess I'll be crazy with you."

Chad stands up and grabs his own gym bag which is overstuffed and bulging at the seams. All those haircare products take up a lot of room. They take a quick look around the room and head out to the airport.

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Sharpay peaks around the corner and studies the corridor from where she's hiding to the front of the building's lobby. Every afternoon she takes the service elevator down to the ground floor and sneaks around to the employee entrance of _Sweets for the Sweet. _Two quick taps on the door and it opens immediately. Sharpay smiles brightly as she slips through the door.

"Hi Sharpay", comes a voice from behind the door.

"Hi Zeke", Sharpay returns pleasantly.

A handsome young black man closes the door behind her. He is wearing a chef's hat and a white baker's uniform.

"I've made something special for you today", he says with a shy smile. "Come over to the bench and have a seat."

The Vanderbilt's building has an assortment of shops located on the ground floor for the convenience of their residents. Among the more popular establishments are Starbucks, a dry cleaners, and the most popular, a bakery called _Sweets for the Sweet_. Sharpay discovered the bakery about a month ago --- about the same time that the morning sickness stopped. Also, at about that same time Thomas and Cynthia started leaving the apartment right after lunch.

Sharpay sits on the stool at the work table in the kitchen.

"What is it, Zeke?", Sharpay asks excitedly. "Is it your crème brûlée again? I just love that stuff."

"Nope, it's even better. I've made you my special peanut butter cookies." He places a place of cookies on the table in front of her.

"Oooo, your cookies are genius!", she exclaims as she starts to stuff her mouth.

Zeke sits down beside her and looks more nervous than usual and he normally always leans towards the nervous side.

"What's up?", Sharpay asks with her mouth full of cookies.

"Well", he starts as he tips his head to the side in an awkward gesture. "It's just that Christmas is four days from now and if you're not busy ... I thought you could, maybe, come home with me for Christmas Eve dinner. My mom's a fantastic cook and my whole family will..."

"Zeke ... wow ... that's very sweet of you, but... I don't know what to say."

"Just say yes."

"Okay ... yes, I'd love to come." _ I just hope Cynthia and Thomas don't have a cow. They haven't let me out of their sight for months. It's about time for me to have some fun._

"Great!", Zeke says happily. "I'll pick you up at your apartment on the twenty-fourth around four o'clock."

"No! I ... I mean ... why don't I just come down and meet you here?", Sharpay says quickly.

"Sure ... I understand. I guess your parents wouldn't want to see you hanging around with someone like me, right?", he says bitterly.

"My parents? I don't live with my parents. I ... I live with the Vanderbilts. They ... they sort of took me in when ...", Sharpay pats the small bump on her stomach to explain. At a little over four months along, she's finally starting to show.

"Oh ... the Vanderbilts, uh? Wow, that's big time. I saw you last week walking through the lobby with an older blond woman and I just assumed she was your mom."

"Yeah, I know ... we get that all the time. That was Cynthia Vanderbilt and we were coming back from my prenatal appointment."

Zeke didn't know that much about Sharpay. She has always been very tight-lipped about herself, preferring instead to let Zeke do all the talking. He knew she was pregnant ... that much was pretty obvious and he knew she wasn't involved with the father of the baby; in fact, she really didn't seem to want to talk about him _at _all. Zeke knows it's crazy to get involved with someone who's pregnant with another guy's baby, but Sharpay seems really special and he just doesn't want to miss this opportunity.

"I'm just staying with them until after ...", Sharpay continues and taps her bump again.

"Oh...", Zeke says, pretending that he understands what she's talking about, but actually, not understanding anything at all. "Well then, I'll meet you here in three days at four o'clock."

"It's a date."

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"Man, I should've worn my shorts", Chad complains as he walks into the hotel room with a couple of cold soda cans and a large bag of chips. "Who would've thought it'd be so hot here in December?"

Troy is sitting on the bed with the phone to his ear and is motioning frantically for Chad to be quiet so he can hear the person on the other end of the line.

They went straight from the airport to a cheap hotel that the taxi driver recommended. It is located on a street corner in Old Towne Albuquerque. The historical section of this southwestern town is festively decorated in red and green for the holiday season; however, instead of holly berries and evergreens, it's red and green chili peppers.

"Yes, ma'am ... ... no ma'am, this isn't a joke; no ma'am, this isn't Ashton Kutcher and you're not being punk'd. I swear. I know this sounds crazy, but this is very important. I'm looking for a girl ... her last name is Evans ... yes ma'am, I know, that's why I'm calling you. Anyway, I don't know her first name, but she's in her early twenties and she has long blond hair and gorgeous brown eyes. ...", Troy gets a depressed look on his face as he listens to the woman talk. "Oh, ... so you don't know anyone who sounds like her ... oh ... well, thank you for your time and I'm sorry to have bothered you."

Troy dejectedly hangs up the phone and flops back onto the small twin bed with his eyes closed.

"No luck, uh?", Chad asks cautiously.

"Only the bad kind", Troy moans without moving. "That was the last Evans in the book."

Chad is sitting in the only chair in the small room and has started eating the chips and drinking his soda.

"I'm really sorry, Troy. I know how much this means to you. Is there anything else you can think of that might help you find her?", Chad says with genuine sympathy.

"I don't know ... ", Troy mumbles as he thinks back.

_Troy finally catches his breath after her relentless tickling. _

_"Seriously though, you were very creative and dramatic with that description of my eyes. Do you write?"_

_"Only thank you cards ... but you got the drama part right. I'm an actress", she explains as she settles back on her pillow._

_"Really?", Troy asks, sounding genuinely impressed, "What have I seen you in? ... I mean ... other than in my dreams."_

_"Aaah, you're so sweet." The petite blond rolls towards Troy and lifts one leg up to drape it over Troy so she can snuggle up closer to him. Then, she starts to play with the sparse hair on his well-muscled chest. In doing so, she accidentally brushes her nail against his nipple and Troy hisses in pain._

_"Careful, please. I ... uh ... think you bit a little too hard there earlier."_

_"Sorry, I got carried away, ... but you did seem to like it at the time", she says as she snuggles even closer._

_"But seriously, I bet you're a great actress." Troy wraps one of his arms around her and pulls her close to him._

_"I guess technically you'd call me 'an aspiring actress' which is code for 'I haven't been in anything worth talking about'. But back at good old East High School, I was quite the celebrity."_

"... good old East High School ...", Troy mumbles aloud as he comes out of the flashback.

"Huh?", Chad asks.

"I just remembered that she said she went to East High School", Troy explains. He jumps up from the bed and starts to put on his tennis shoes.

"Did it hurt?", Chad asks oddly.

"Did what hurt?"

"Finding out what school she went to."

"What are you talking about, man?"

"Right before you said 'good old East High School' you let out a groan like you were in pain. I was just wondering what you were remembering."

Troy looks up from tying his shoes with wide eyes and turns candy apple red. Then, completely ignoring his friend, he ties the final bow and says, "Come on Chad; we're going to find East High."

"Troy, calm down. It's after six o'clock at night; the school's closed."

"Oh", Troy says dejectedly, "well, I guess we'll just have to wait until tomorrow."

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Sharpay bounces through the door to the penthouse with a smile on her face. Being around Zeke always cheers her up; he's such a sweet guy and awfully cute too. She starts to feel a small pang of guilt over starting to have feelings for Zeke when she is still being constantly haunted by memories of NotChad. _Who am I kidding? I'll never find him again._

Normally, she would go straight to her home, but today she takes a detour to the Vanderbilt's kitchen first. She lets out a small sigh as she waltzes into the kitchen with her small bag of contraband --- three peanut butter cookies. Her plan is to pour herself a large glass of milk and sneak off to her room to finish the cookies. She'd have to hurry before Fulton, the watchdog, catches her. She has the milk ready and she's just about to pick up the glass when a voice startles her.

"Sharpay!!", Cynthia exclaims suddenly, "What are you doing in here?"

Sharpay jumps so suddenly that she drops the bag of cookies in surprise. Cynthia is standing at the doorway to the kitchen wearing a black silk robe cinched tightly around her small waist. Sharpay hasn't seen Cynthia without the fake pregnancy belly in a month and she experiences a strange, fleeting feeling of jealousy at the sight of the older woman's tiny waist. However, before she can process her own emotions, her eyes are drawn to the figure standing behind Cynthia --- a decidedly male figure clad only in a white terrycloth towel. A male figure who is also decidedly not Thomas Vanderbilt. Sharpay's eyes narrow in suspicion.

Seeing where Sharpay is staring, Cynthia steps in front of the towel-clothed man, effectively blocking Sharpay's view of him. The young man, however, is undeterred by Cynthia's action and steps around her to approach Sharpay.

"Hi, I'm Ryan", the young blond man says in a silky-smooth voice. "I'm Cynthia's..."

"Masseuse ... Ryan's my masseuse", Cynthia snaps out, cutting off what Ryan was planning on saying.

"That's right", Ryan says with a smirk, "I help her work the kinks out."

"Oh", is the only response Sharpay can think to say in light of this obvious lie. Because she knows if she looks up the word boytoy in the dictionary, she'll see a picture of this Ryan guy --- towel and all. "Well, I'll just be going now --- to my room --- with my milk --- and my bag."

"Yes, you do that, Sharpay. And just so we understand each other", Cynthia hisses, "you forget meeting Ryan and I'll forget about your excursions with your little black boyfriend."

Sharpay shoots back indignantly, "Zeke's not..."

"This item is not up for negotiation", Cynthia says with finality.

"Well ... in that case, I thought I'd just let you that I'm going over to Zeke's for Christmas Eve dinner. That won't be a problem, will it?", Sharpay says vindictively.

"No at all, dear. Just be sure to take good care of _my_ baby. Are we clear?"

"Crystal", Sharpay grits out before turning and storming from the room, leaving her milk sitting on the counter and her bag of cookies sitting on the floor.

HSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSM

By the time Troy and Chad step out of the taxi onto the campus of East High School the next day, it's twelve noon.

"Wow, I wonder how they get this place so green in the middle of a desert", Chad comments as he looks at the lush green grass surrounding the school.

"I've got a bad feeling about this, Chad", Troy says as they walk towards the front doors of the school.

Suddenly a bell rings and .5 seconds later, the doors fling open and the entire student body of East High comes pouring out. Every one of them bursting out in song.

"Holy...", Chad exclaims and he drags Troy over to the side and out of the line of fire.

A young man comes dancing out of the building singing, "What time is it?"

A huge crowd of students answers him by singing back, "Christmas time; it's our vacation."

A spontaneous dance sequence erupts with over fifty students singing, tumbling and flipping all over the front of the building.

"What is this, man, the high school for performing arts or something?", Chad asks once they reach the relative safety of the side of the building.

"I don't know", Troy answers him. "Maybe it's some sort of desert thing."

Once their song finishes, the campus quickly clears out and the two east coasters slowly approach the doors once again.

"Wow, I don't remember ever being that anxious to leave school", Troy comments as his voice echoes in the deserted hallways.

"That's 'cause you're weird", Chad responds. "So what do we do now? Everyone's gone. I think I even saw a lot of teachers in that crowd. That old lady doing the flips in the second row reminded me a lot of my old english teacher ... except without the acrobatics."

"Let's just look around. Maybe there's still someone in the office."

As they walk towards the glass enclosed office complex, Chad, who is easily distracted, stops to look at the trophies and awards in the display cases along the way.

"Hey, look at this", he says as he points to a large basketball trophy prominently displayed in the center case. "They won the New Mexico state championship the same year we won the New York championship. It's a shame the championships don't go nationwide. I'd like to see how we would've stacked up against another state."

"Chad, will you stop goofing off? We're on a miss... Oh my God ... that's her", Troy says in awe.

Troy walks away from his friend as he is seemingly hypnotized by the case immediately to the right of the sports trophies. It is the drama department case and there ... highlighted in the center is an 8X10 color glossy of his dream girl.

"That's her", he repeats reverently.

Chad joins him as he studies the picture. Below her photograph is a listing the girl's impressive accomplishments and her name.

"Sharpay Evans", Troy reads slowly.

"Shar-pay? What kind of name is that?", Chad asks. "I like Char-lene better. It's no wonder we both got her name wrong. I mean Sharpay ... isn't that a breed of dog?"

"Shut up, Chad", Troy tells him dismissively.

"Sorry", Chad says.

Troy seems to be mesmerized by the girl and Chad decides they need to do something ... anything.

"Okay, so now you know her name, but how are we going to find her? Her family obviously has an unlisted phone number."

"I don't know", Troy answers him, but his eyes never leave her picture.

"Well, I'm going to go check the office. Maybe they can help."

Chad walks off towards the office complex and Troy doesn't even blink. He continues to stand there staring at her picture and reading and rereading the list of her high school accomplishments. He doesn't even realize that he's not alone anymore until he hears a voice.

"Magnifico, isn't she?", says a heavily accent male voice from his right.

Troy looks over to see the custodian standing next to him staring at her picture. He is a short middle-aged man with a thick, dark mustache and thick wavy hair. Troy is immediately struck with an intense sense of jealousy that anyone besides him is admiring_ his_ girl.

"I remember her final play. She was Elphaba in the school's production of Wicked. She was wonderful."

Troy pushes aside his jealous feelings when he realizes that this man may be of help.

"I'm actually looking for her. It's very important that I find her. Do you know where her family lives?", Troy asks the man hopefully.

"The Evans Family, senor?", he asks rhetorically, "Who doesn't? They live off of Tramway in the largest house in the city. I could take you there. I live near there, but in a much more modest casa."

Twenty minutes later, Jorge, the custodian, pulls up to the closed iron gates of an enormous mansion.

"Wow", is the only word that Chad manages to say as he steps out of the beat-up, rusty old truck.

"Thank you very much for your help", Troy tells the man who quickly pulls back out onto the road.

Troy stands next to Chad studying the huge structure that they can see at the end of the long, winding road.

"I've seen bigger", is his only comment.

"Oh yeah, you've got some rich relatives, don't you?"

"I don't consider them relatives." Troy says flatly as he walks up to the small intercom hidden discreetly in the brick column of the gate. He pushes the call button and waits. A few seconds later, a woman's tinny voice comes out of the box.

"Yes?", she asks tersely.

"Ummm, hi. My name is Troy Bolton and I'm looking for Sharpay Evans. Is she home?"

"No", the woman says flatly. "She doesn't live here anymore. She hasn't lived here in over a year."

And the connection is cut.

"No! Wait! Where is she? Do you have a phone number? An address? Anything? Please", he practically begs.

However, there is no reply.

"Damn", Troy hisses under his breath.

"Come on", Chad says as he starts to walk down the drive back towards the road.

"What are you talking about, Chad? I'm not going to just give up."

"Who said anything about giving up? We're going to find another way into this place. There has to be another way in. There's always a delivery entrance in the back."

"How do you know that?"

"Well, that's how it always is ... in the movies."

It seems the Evans mansion is nestled into the foothills of the Sandia mountains which makes it very lovely and picturesque, but also, very difficult to navigate by foot. Therefore, it takes Troy and Chad thirty minutes to walk around the perimeter of the huge estate to find the rear entrance.

"This must be it, man", Chad pants as they find the less impressive, but no less formidable rear gate.

"Yeah, I guess so, but how has this helped anything, Chad? What are we supposed to do now? Scale the sixteen foot wall or climb the iron gate with the sharp pointy things at the top?", Troy complains in frustration.

Just then, they hear the rumble of an engine coming from the direction of the mansion.

"Well, you can try that if you want", Chad says as he casually points towards the gates which are starting to automatically open, "but I was planning on just slipping in when that delivery truck leaves."

They both duck out of sight as the truck drives through the gate and then, the two athletic young men run through before it closes behind them. They immediately slip down the embankment beside the road so they are less visible.

"Aaaah, just like I planned", Chad tells Troy.

"Come off it, Chad", Troy turns to Chad as they lie in the gully. "Quit acting like you had that planned. That was just plain, dumb luck."

"There was nothing _plain_ about it", Chad retorts.

"I rest my case."

TBC

Here's what I have to say about that...

So now we've added Zeke and Ryan to the story. Are you all shocked at how I'm portraying Ryan? Keep in mind that this Sharpay doesn't have a twin brother and he and Sharpay are complete strangers. He does, however, seem to be well acquainted with Cynthia.

FYI... Oh and I don't know if you've noticed, but I thought I would point this out ... when I do the flashbacks, if it's Sharpay's flashback, then Troy is only referred to as "he" or "him" --- never his name. And if it's Troy's flashback, then Sharpay is "she" or "her".

I couldn't resist commenting about the lush green campus of East High. Remember, I used to live in Albuquerque and the schools there have little or no grass at all. It's all very brown.


	9. Chapter 8: Albuquerque and XMAS Eve

**Baby for Sale**

Disclaimer: I only own this plot. I do not own High School Musical.

_Previously on Baby for Sale..._

_Troy and Chad find themselves in Albuquerque trying to track down Sharpay. I just don't have the heart to tell them she's not there. Do you?_

Chapter 8: Albuquerque and XMAS Eve

It's another twenty minutes and a mile hike entirely uphill before they come to the back of the mansion. Actually, it is more like a small castle than a mansion. It's made of solid stone and even sports two turrets making it look very out of place in the desert landscape.

"Man...the wind-sprints your dad made us run in high school were nothing like this", Chad gasps as he tries to catch his breath.

"It's ... it's the altitude", Troy gasps back.

"Huh?"

"Albuquerque is over a mile in altitude. I makes it harder to breath. The air's thinner."

"Oh ... well, what's your plan?", Chad asks.

"I'm going to knock on the door and ask", Troy announces decisively.

"Oh man, I don't think this is a good idea."

Seven and a half minutes later, Troy and Chad are rudely deposited at the rear gate by the largest "gardener" they've ever seen. He bodily hauled them into the back of his truck bed which is covered by a hard shell and bodily hauled them out again when they reached the end of the drive.

"And stay out!", he shouts at them as the gates close shut with a loud clank.

"Well, that went well", Chad groans as he rubs the back of his head.

"Chad...", Troy says in warning.

They slowly get to their feet and start to walk slowly down the road and back toward civilization. A short time later, a small car drives up behind and beeps loudly. Both men jump in surprise as they turn to see who's trying to run them down.

An old blue Ford Tracer stops a few feet from them and small young woman with brown hair steps out.

"Hi guys. I think the expression is,_ it's a small world_", Kelsi Nielson announces to the two stunned young men. "I heard what happened to you with the housekeeper and the gardener. Maybe I can help you."

Forty-five minutes later, Kelsi pulls up in front of their hotel.

"Well, I'm sorry I couldn't be more help", Kelsi says as Troy and Chad get out of the car.

Troy hasn't spoken a word for the past twenty minutes, so Chad takes over the polite amenities.

"Oh, don't be sorry. At least we know what's happened to her ... or least as much as anyone else."

"I'd like to help more, but I have another appointment and I'm already late."

Kelsi has already explained why she was at the Evans'. Since moving back to Albuquerque four months ago, Kelsi has found an assortment of odd jobs, all revolving around music. Today, she is a piano tuner. That's why she was, luckily, at the Evans house at the same time as Troy and Chad. She was tuning their baby grand piano. Tomorrow she would be teaching piano lessons to snot-nosed little kids. Kelsi also explained that it was Mrs. Muir, the housekeeper, who spoke to them through the intercom. The Evans aren't even in town. They are in Europe for Christmas. Not that it would make much difference, according to Kelsi. Mrs. Evans would have probably called the police, in addition to kicking them out.

Kelsi hasn't heard from Sharpay since she talked to her from the airport the morning she flew home. Kelsi tried to call her two days later, but her cell phone number wasn't working. She became concerned about her friend and brought those concerns directly to Sharpay's family. The Evans' told her they have 'wash their hands' of Sharpay and have not had or wanted contact from her in over six months. Since she is an adult and there was no sign of foul play, Kelsi had little recourse, but to hope that Sharpay knew how to take care of herself.

Troy is still standing there stunned when Kelsi drives away.

Chad approaches him slowly and places his hand on Troy's shoulder. As gently as possible, he asks, "What do you want to do now?"

"I just want to go home, Chad."

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Sharpay's small apartment kitchen is completely out of food. Normally, Fulton would have come and restocked her pantry yesterday after he returned from his weekly trip to the market. However, for some reason he never came by and Sharpay had never left her rooms at all yesterday after her run-in with Cynthia.

Cynthia ... Now this latest development is certainly unexpected. Cynthia is obviously having an affair with this young blond guy, Ryan. _Masseuse, my ass or rather, her ass._ Then, she can't help but giggle at the image that thought inspired. _Yeah, I bet he really does massage her ass._

It just doesn't make any sense. The Vanderbilts are a loving couple who want so desperately to have a baby that they're willing to pay Sharpay to do it for them and then, for Cynthia to pretend to be pregnant herself to spare the child the stigma of being adopted.

_Why on earth would she be sleeping around on her husband? I mean she's just pretending to be pregnant. I'm the one with the raging hormones._

_"I know you probably don't believe me, but I've never done this before", Sharpay sighs as snuggles up under his chin._

_"You mean ... you were a virgin?", he asks in mock horror._

_"Nooooo, I mean I've done ... this ... before. I've just never done ... this ... before", Sharpay explains._

_"I'm confused, but that's okay. My brain's not thinking clearly, right now. You know you've got great stamina."_

_"Must be hormones."_

_"Huh?"_

_"Just rest up, honey. You'll need your strength later."_

Just then, she's interrupted by her stomach growling loudly. Well, her hormones will have to take a backseat to her hunger.

Sharpay walks into the large kitchen and is relieved to find it deserted. She makes a beeline for the pantry where Thomas' chips are kept. She already has the bag open and is about to chomp down on a rippled piece of deep-fried salty goodness, when she stops and looks down at her stomach.

"Ugh", she groans as she puts the chips back. Chips won't do this baby any good, no matter how yummy they taste. She eyes the fruit bowl sitting on the granite counter top and decides to start with a nice crispy apple. Just because Cynthia isn't taking this seriously anymore, isn't any reason for her to shirk her responsibilities.

Two apples, one banana, and a clementine later, Sharpay has finally justified those chips and she settles down on a stool with a large glass of milk and the bag of sour cream and onion rippled potatoes.

"You know those aren't very good for you", comments Thomas as he strolls into the room. He grabs a bottled water from the refrigerator and sits down beside her.

Despite her dislike for Thomas Vanderbilt, Sharpay can't help but feel sorry for him in light of her discovery of Cynthia's betrayal. _Should I tell him?_

"Have you seen Cynthia today?", Thomas asks.

"Umm, no. I just got here." _ I can't tell him. It's really none of my business_.

Suddenly, another voice answers Thomas. "She left about an hour ago to go to the hair dressers."

It's Ryan. He comes strutting into the kitchen wearing a pink polo shirt and white slacks with a designer sweater draped over his shoulders. He's also sporting a white velor pimp hat with a pink ostrich feather sticking out of it.

_Oooo, t__his is going to be good._ The boyfriend and the husband meet and she has a front-row seat to the big event.To Sharpay's dismay Thomas' reaction is not what she expected.

"Ryan!", he exclaims excitedly as he jumps up to go greet the young man. "When did you get here?"

"Yesterday", Ryan tells him, as if it's nothing, while he walks over and gives Thomas a big hug.

"Well, I was just about to leave for my club. I have the squash court reserved for this afternoon. Care to join me? The club has a new _private_ steam room and I've just been dying to try it out", Thomas croons as he waggles his eyebrows at the young man.

Ryan leans over and whispers something into Thomas' ear which causes both of them to break down in girlish giggles --- yes, girlish giggles.

"Well, we'll see you later, Sharpay. Don't eat too many of those chips, deary", Thomas warns Sharpay as the two men leave the penthouse together.

Sharpay doesn't respond. She can't. She's too dumbstruck by what she just saw to say anything. _Did I just see what I thought I saw? Rich people are weird._

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"Troy!", exclaims the beautiful woman with long dark hair. "This is such a surprise! We didn't think you were coming home this year." She pulls him through the open door, into the house, and into a deep hug.

"Hi, Mom. It's so good to be home. I really missed you. Where's Dad?", Troy asks with a tinge of sadness in his voice.

"He's in the workshop; Jack will be so excited to see you." The depression in this voice doesn't go unnoticed by his mother, but she decides to not mention it. She knows he'll tell her when he's ready.

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"Wow, what a great house!", Sharpay exclaims as they approach an ancient looking Brownstone house.

"Yeah, it's got quite a history to it. Supposed to be haaauuunted", Zeke says, trying to sound spooky, but just ending up looking really cute the way his eyes twinkle when he cracks a huge grin.

"Very funny", Sharpay says and they start to walk up the steps to the ornate front door.

"Seriously, my Grams has the _sight_ or so everyone says and she ... _sees dead people_", Zeke finishes as his voice drops to a eerie whisper.

"Oh, just stop. You're starting to creep me out."

"I'm sorry", he says with sincerity. "Come on, Grams is going to love you."

Zeke opens the door for her and Sharpay walks into a warm, cozy living room full of comfortable furniture and a roaring fireplace in the center of the far wall. Photographs adorn every flat surface in the room; many of them are of Zeke, from infancy to the present. He takes her coat and she continues to look around the room.

"This is wonderful, Zeke. It's so warm and inviting", Sharpay tells him.

"Yeah, I just love this room. I guess we're a little early; it's usually really crowded in here", Zeke comments.

"There sure are a lot of pictures of you", Sharpay comments as she runs her finger along the edge of a picture frame showing a young Zeke in overalls and holding a red helium balloon that's almost as big as he.

"Yeah, Grams raised me from the time I was born. She's pretty special."

Sharpay sits down on the sofa and picks up a photo album lying on the coffee table.

"I bet this thing is just full of pictures of a cute, little Zeke."

"You're probably right", Zeke says as he blushes.

Suddenly, there's a loud booming voice from the other room and a swinging door bursts open as a tall, heavy-set young man storms into the room. He appears to be about the same age as Zeke.

"How many times do I have to tell her ...", he mumbles to himself.

He is dressed in long, flowing, brightly colored robes and doesn't seem to notice them yet.

"Gerald? Is that you, man?", Zeke questions uncertainly.

"Zeke!", the man shouts when he hears the question. "Man! It is good to see you." He hurries over to Zeke and gives him a big bear hug. Then, his expression grows serious as he adds, "Like I just told Grams, it's Mufasa now. I don't go by Gerald anymore. I've rediscovered my cultural roots and I changed my name to Mufasa Mfalme."

"Mufasa?", Zeke asks with a sly smile. "You mean like from The Lion King? Simba's dad? This is a joke; right, Gerald?"

"It's no joke! I was really hoping you'd be the one who'd take me seriously", Gerald pouts. "After all, you're the one who broke the status quo by becoming a chef."

"I'm sorry, Ger ... Mufasa. It just took me by surprise, that's all. How's everything going otherwise?"

"Great! Really great! I've finally declared a major --- Medieval Studies."

"Medieval Studies, uh? Wow ... that's interesting, Muf. What exactly do you do with a degree in Medieval Studies?", Zeke asks.

"Don't call me Muf, dude. Gerald is better than Muf and you can do lots with my degree ...", Gerald says as he looks around the room looking for inspiration.

That's when he finally notices Sharpay who is still sitting quietly on the sofa looking through that photograph album.

"Whoa! Hello there", Gerald says lasciviously. "Where did you come from? You are one fine looking piece of ..."

"Gerald!", Zeke interrupts, "This is Sharpay; she's a friend of mine and I invited her to have dinner with us. And Sharpay, this is my cousin_Gerald_."

Sharpay puts the album away and stands up to meet Gerald. She offers him her hand and says, "Pleased to meet you, Gerald."

His eyes are instantly drawn to her stomach.

"Damn, Zeke! Does Grams know you got a white girl knocked up?", Gerald exclaims loudly.

"Gerald!", Zeke shouts at him. "Sharpay and I are friends and I expect you to treat her with respect. Do you understand me?" Zeke is speaking forcefully and in a manner completely unlike he normally behaves. In fact, this is so unlike him that both Gerald and Sharpay are shocked at his outburst.

"I'm sorry, Zeke. I was out of line. I'm sorry to you too, Sharpay. I didn't mean what I said to sound like that, but even pregnant, you are still one fine looking piece ..."

"Gerald!", a woman's voice rings out from the other room. "Where's my green beans, son?"

"Comin', Grams", he calls back and then, turning back to Sharpay and Zeke, adds, "I was supposed to be finding some canned green beans in the basement. Guess I'd better go." He quickly walks over to a door next to the one he just walked through and opens to disappears down a flight of stairs.

Zeke grabs Sharpay's hand and says as he pulls her along behind him, "Come on, Sharpay. Let's go meet Grams."

"Are you sure this is a good idea ... me being here, I mean?", Sharpay says with insecurity in her voice. "Everyone's going to think the same thing as Gerald. Only they probably won't say anything."

"Don't worry. Gerald is just ... well, Gerald. The rest of them won't be like that. I promise."

"Okay, I trust you, Zeke", she says with a small smile.

They walk through the swinging door and into a scene of well-organized chaos. Every surface is covered with an assortment of dishes full of food and the center island in the large kitchen is overfilled with pies of all kinds: pecan, pumpkin, mincemeat, coconut, and a few that Sharpay couldn't readily identify, but which look delicious.

Standing at the stove is heavy-set black woman wearing an apron over what is probably her finest dress. She has her back to them and is currently stirring a large pot on the burner. A young woman in her early twenties is sitting at the kitchen table peeling potatoes and looking for all the world like she would rather be poking hot needles into her eyes. She looks up when Zeke and Sharpay enter.

"Zeke!", she squeals in delight and jumps up to run over to him.

She embraces him in a one-arm hug while awkwardly holding a large kitchen knife in her other hand.

"Hey Taylor, how's my favorite cousin?", Zeke asks as he returns the hug.

"Great! I'm just great! And I'm so glad you're here. _The King _is driving me crazy", she exclaims.

"What king?"

"Mufasa Mfalme", she replies as she rolls her eyes.

"Oh, Gerald, you mean."

"You didn't miss the significance of his name, did you?" At Zeke's shrug she continues, "Well, Mufasa is easy --- that's from The Lion King, no matter what Gerald says to the contrary and Mfalme --- that's Swahili for King. I think my brother is having delusions of grandeur."

An insistent throat clearing from across the room interrupts them and everyone turns towards the matron of the family who is watching the two cousins with amusement.

"Good! It's about time you noticed me, young man. Now get over here, Ezekiel, and give your Grams a big hug", the older woman orders. She has a gentle, kind face and her eyes twinkle just like her grandson's. Her salt and pepper hair perfectly frames her round face and the half-moon eyeglasses which are perched on the edge of her nose complete the picture of the perfect grandmother. She quickly wipes her hands on her apron and meets Zeke half-way across the room.

"Grams", Zeke says in a low voice, "it's only been a week since we saw each other."

"Ezekiel Jedidiah Baylor, six weeks of colic when you were a newborn and a near fatal case of meningitis when you were ten years old has earned me the right to demand a hug from you anytime I want", Grams explains to him.

"Yes, ma'am", he says dutifully, but his eyes are twinkling as he says it.

"And who's this?", Grams asks as she looks at Sharpay over the top of her glasses.

"This is my friend, Sharpay", Zeke explains. "She lives in the building where I work."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Baylor", Sharpay says shyly as she steps forward to offer her hand.

"Nonsense, child. You call me Grams, just like everyone else", and she pulls Sharpay into a bone-crushing hug. Then, she pulls back and says apologetically, "I'm sorry, child, don't want to crush the little one, now do we?"

"Um ... no ma'am", Sharpay replies quietly.

"Hey, Sharpay. I'd like you to meet someone", Zeke says as he pulls her back over to Taylor. "This is Taylor McKessie, my favorite cousin and unfortunate sister to that jerk out in the living room."

"Hi, Sharpay", Taylor says. "What did the jerkasaurus do now?"

"Oh, nothing too horrible and it's nice to meet you."

"You got here just in time. In about thirty minutes, this house will be overrun with hungry people", Taylor explains as she returns to her potato peeling job.

"Speaking of hungry people", Mrs. Baylor explains, "I need the two of you, Ezekiel and Taylor, to go the corner market and get me some of those little mini marshmallows. I forgot to get those when I went shopping and I need them for the top of my sweet potato casserole."

"I'm on it", Taylor jumps up, obviously happy to get out of potato duty.

"Sure thing, Grams", Zeke says and then, turning to Sharpay, "You ready, Sharpay?"

"Oh no", Grams interrupts, "I'll need Sharpay to stay and help me."

"Oh ... that okay with you?", Zeke asks Sharpay.

"Sure, I'm fine", she replies.

"Come on Zeke. Let's go before she changes her mind", Taylor tells him. She has already put on her coat and is dragging Zeke towards the front door.

Once they are alone ... (Gerald is still mysteriously missing in the basement), Grams turns to Sharpay, "Good ... now that they're gone ... the two of us need to have a little talk."

TBC

Here's what I have to say about that...

Well, now I've added even more depth to Ryan's character. It seems that not only does he know Cynthia, but ... uh ... Thomas too. Eeew.

When you picture Zeke's grandma, think of The Oracle from The Matrix. You know the old black lady who was baking cookies the whole time she was talking to Keanu Reeves.

Btw, Gerald's only purpose is comedy relief.


	10. Chapter 9: Suspicious and Betrayals

**Baby for Sale**

Disclaimer: I only own this plot. I do not own High School Musical.

_Previously on Baby for Sale..._

_Once they are alone ... (Gerald is still mysteriously missing in the basement), Grams turns to Sharpay, "Good, now that they're gone ... the two of us need to have a little talk."_

Chapter 9: Suspicious and Betrayals

Grams doesn't say anything, at first. She casually fetches another paring knife and gestures for Sharpay to join her at the table where Taylor had been sitting peeling potatoes.

"Hmmm, hmmm, hmmm", Grams tsks as she picks up a small round white potato. It's about the size of a plum. "Taylor is going to be a brilliant lawyer, but all the cooking sense went to Ezekiel. She's turning these Idaho spuds into Chinese water chestnuts." She tosses the tiny spud in the bowl of water with the others and continues, "Come on, child. Let's finish up these potatoes before my granddaughter has a chance to butcher anymore of them."

Sharpay smiles warmly and picks up the small knife that Taylor had been using and starts to peel. A couple of potatoes later, Grams comments. "You're very good at this, Sharpay. You're not wasting anything."

"I used to love to help Cook prepare meals when I was a child", Sharpay says very formally. When she lived with her parents, Sharpay had to always be on her guard to be the perfect 'lady' and she unconsciously slips back into that precise speech pattern whenever she speaks about home.

"Ezekiel was like that too. He wanted to help in the kitchen before he was barely old enough to walk."

"Your three grandchildren are all very different from each other", Sharpay says as she picks up another potato.

"Yes ... indeed they are. Taylor is smart as a whip and very focused. Gerald ... well, Gerald is still trying to find himself. Ezekiel is just where he wants to be ... for now."

"For now?"

"I expect that he'll end up in some upscale restaurant one of these days. I can see him now --- serving his world-favorite pastries to some big shot muckety-mucks", Grams says with pride.

"I can see that too. Zeke's incredibly talented", Sharpay agrees completely.

"I'm very proud of him."

"I think it's mutual. He talks about you all the time."

"Ezekiel's special to me", she admits. "I've raised him since the day he was born."

"What happened to his parents?"

Grams sighs wearily before answering. "His father ... no one actually knows who he was. My daughter would never say. And my daughter ... Ezekiel's mother ... well, let's just say she wasn't quite ready to be a mother. She ran away from the hospital right after she had him. We haven't seen her since. I could ... almost ... understand that bastard of a man running out on my daughter, but a mother ... giving up her own child ... a child that she carried and nurtured inside her own body for nine long months ... Well, I just don't understand that at all", she shaking her head slowly from side to side. The entire time that Grams is talking she's concentrating on the potato in her hand and isn't looking at Sharpay until she hears an unmistakable sniffle and looks up to see that Sharpay is crying and has dropped her knife on the table. Her hands are gently cradling her slightly swelled stomach in her hands.

"Oh my goodness, child. I didn't mean you." Grams jumps up more quickly than you would expect someone her age to move and hurries around the table to kneel on the floor, next to Sharpay. She takes Sharpay's hands in her own and continues, "Sharpay, honey, look at me. I ... I see things ... things that other people don't."

Sharpay slowly meets Gram's eyes with her own and she remembers Zeke's silly joke about the house being haunted and his grandmother who could see dead people.

Grams continues. "It's very important that you listen to me. There's more happening in your life than you understand right now. There's more to your pregnancy than you understand right now."

"Wh...what ddo you mean?", Sharpay asks in a trembling voice.

Grams rises slowly to her feet, but she doesn't release Sharpay's hands. "You're feeling like you made a mistake by agreeing to carry this child ... well, not carry this child, but in giving him up."

Sharpay nods and then, realizing what she just heard, asks, "Him?"

"Oops. Don't think I was supposed to tell you that. My bad", Grams says with a wink.

Sharpay can't help but giggle at this elderly woman weak attempt at sounding young. Then, she immediately sobers at this new knowledge --- _him ... a boy ... a baby boy ... my son._

Growing serious again, Grams continues, "Sharpay, you're right to feel this way. Be watchful of your surroundings. Be careful who you trust."

"I ... I don't understand."

"You will ... soon enough ... child ... soon enough."

Before she can say anything more, Zeke, Taylor and Gerald come busting into the room. Gerald is shouting at the other two.

"I can't believe no one heard me. I've been yellin' and bangin' on the door for over half an hour!"

Taylor is trying to keep a straight face, but can't help cracking up when she listens to her brother.

"Gerald, how in the world can you get locked in a basement when the door has no lock?", she asks him.

"Yeah man, it opened fine for us", Zeke chimes in.

Grams interrupts the squabbling with her commanding voice. "Alright you three! We've got a lot of work to do and the rest of the family will be getting here any minute, so let's get to work."

"Ah Grams, why do we have to do all the work?", Gerald gripes.

"Ssssh Ger", Taylor hisses, "You know Grams' rules: If you help cook the meal, you don't have to help clean up after."

"Cooking is easier than cleaner any day of the week", Zeke adds.

"Yeah, I guess you're right", Gerald reluctantly agrees. "Let's get this party started."

As Grams predicted, the whole family arrives within the half hour, bringing with them even more food and laughter. Grams never said anything else about her warning to Sharpay and her uneasiness about the future is quickly forgotten while she is surrounded by the warmth of Zeke's family.

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Sharpay is sitting alone at the opulent dining room table in the main part of the penthouse. She's just eaten her way through a whole pint of Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia. Normally, the sweet confection never fails to cheer her up. This is not a normal day. It's five days after Christmas. Five days since she's seen or talked to anyone. _You mean other than yourself, Sharpay. ... Shut up!_, she yells back at herself. Christmas has always been Sharpay's favorite holiday --- always filled with family and friends. Even after her estrangement from her parents, she always had enough friends to fill the gap. Christmas this year is the exception. This year she spent it alone.

The Vanderbilts are spending the holiday at their Connecticut country home and Sharpay isn't invited. She sighs while she watches the last of the ice cream slowly drip off the spoon as she holds it suspended above the container. Then, she remembers her conversation with Cynthia from five days ago.

"_Thomas and I will be leaving as soon as the helicopter arrives", Cynthia explains as she makes notes on a pad as she stands at the black granite counter in the kitchen._

_Cynthia explained to Sharpay that the traffic in New York is so horrid that they bought their own helicopter to travel back and forth to their home in Connecticut. The aircraft will be landing on the helipad located on the roof of the building any minute now. _

_Sharpay feels like a child. That's because Cynthia is treating her like one. She's busy writing out lists of phone numbers and emergency contacts for Sharpay while they're away. I'm not fifteen years old, she thinks wearily._

"_There ... ", Cynthia announces with finality as she finishes writing. "Now understand this, Sharpay. This list is only in the case of an emergency. And by emergency, I mean you don't contact us unless something is going wrong with the baby. Do you understand?"_

"_Yes", Sharpay answers curtly._

"_God!!!", Cynthia exclaims as she scratches under the fake pregnancy belly that she's wearing. "This thing itches like mad and it's incredibly hot."_

"_You should try the real thing", Sharpay quips back and then, immediately feels guilty for what she said._

_Cynthia sees her look and decides to take full advantage of it. Her face suddenly transforms into a hurt expression and her voice quivers as she says, "If only I could...", and her eyes well up with tears. It's a talent she perfected years ago as a young girl whenever she wanted anything expensive from her father. She could melt him in an instant._

"_I'm soooo sorry", Sharpay tries to explain as her hormones take over again and she too succumbs to tears._

_Cynthia sniffles and recovers quickly (amazingly so) and she continues with Sharpay's instructions about not leaving the apartment or answering the telephone or in any way communicating with anyone. This is Sharpay's punishment for her day with Zeke. The Vanderbilts were livid when she returned in the early evening. They claimed to be concerned about her welfare, but Sharpay thinks it's just an excuse to control her. She thought she could use the knowledge of Cynthia's relationship with that Ryan guy, but now it appears that they both have a relationship with Ryan and they have this weird open marriage... She still can't wrap her mind around that._

Sharpay is brought back to the present by the sound of a knock at the front door. However, before she can get to the door to look out the peek-hole, she hears a key turning in the lock. Taking a step back in alarm, she watches with trepidation as the door slowly opens.

She is nearly floored when in walks ... Ryan the boytoy.

"Ummmm, hi", he says in obvious surprise. "I wasn't expecting anyone to be here." He's looking around the room nervously.

Sharpay backs away slowly with a wary look on her face.

"Oh ... ", Ryan says with a nervous laugh. "You don't need to worry about me. I'm not dangerous. I ... just ... well..."

"Thought you'd come in and steal their valuables when they aren't here", Sharpay finishes for him.

"Hey!", he exclaims indignantly. "It's not like they can't afford it. I suppose you've never nicked anything when they weren't looking, huh?"

"No! Of course, I haven't", she replies angrily as she draws herself up to her full height.

"Uh huh, sure. Like I believe that." Then, realizing that he isn't going to have any success with his little cat burglary, he beats a hasty retreat back to the door.

Despite how despicable he is, Ryan is the first person she's seen in five days. Therefore, in a disparate bid for human companionship, she calls out to him.

"Wait! You can't leave now!", Sharpay runs over and grabs him by the arm. Then, realizing how pitiful she sounds, amends, "I mean ... maybe you could stay awhile. We could talk."

Ryan turns towards Sharpay and to her huge surprise gives her a lascivious look. "Ohhhh? Are you going to make it worth my while to stay?", he asks as he waggles his eyebrows at her.

"You're disgusting! I just wanted ... well, ... I have ice cream", she explains, frantically, trying not to sound quite so pitiful.

"Ice cream?", Ryan clarifies with an honest smile on his face. "Ben and Jerry's?", he asks, hopefully.

"Ummm, I think there's some left in the freezer."

Thirty minutes later, they're kicked back on Cynthia's imported Italian leather sofa laughing their heads off. Surrounding them are an assortment of snacks ... cookies, ice cream, chips, and popcorn. They've discovered an incredible amount of similarities between the two of them, including, amazingly enough, that they were born on the same day.

"I can't believe we have so much in common", Sharpay says as she tries to catch her breath.

"Yeah...", Ryan sighs as he ponders his now empty pint of ice cream. "You were the Drama Queen of your high school and I was the Drama King _and_ the Drama Queen of my high school. You know I actually auditioned for the roles of both Romeo _and_ Juliette. I was trying to hedge my bet."

"You're so funny", Sharpay giggles at young blond man. Then, she groans as she clutches her stomach, "And I ate too much."

"Me, too", Ryan moans with her. "And I, for one, do have my figure to maintain. You may be able to pig out and turn into a whale, but my livelihood relies on how good I look.

She grows serious as she studies him. "I don't understand, Ryan. How can you? ... I mean ... why do you? ..."

"Sell my body to the highest bidder?", he finishes for her.

"Well ... yeah", Sharpay agrees as she sits up straight as starts to brush invisible cookie crumbs off her blouse. She just can't look him in the eye right now.

"You're one to talk", he shoots back. "The way I see it ... we both sell our bodies for a living."

"What? I'm ... I'm nothing like you. You're ... you're a ..." She's not able to finish the sentence; so he, once again, finishes it for her.

"A whore?"

"I wasn't going to say that", she snaps, defensively.

"Why not? It's the truth. Just because I'm honest enough with myself to admit it ..."

"What are you saying? I'm not a whore; I didn't have sex with them. I'm helping them. They want a baby and I'm helping them."

"Out of the goodness of your heart? Pro bono?", Ryan asks, smugly. He's certain of her response.

"Well, ... not exactly."

"So, they are paying you, right?" At Sharpay's nod, he continues. "And they pay me. Frankly, I don't see a difference. We're like two peas in a pod."

"You're wrong, Ryan."

"Look ... I like you, Sharpay. You're a good kid", he tells her. "It's just ... be careful, okay?"

"What do you mean?", she asks nervously.

"There's just ... Look, I shouldn't be telling you this. There's just more going on here than you know."

Sharpay gasps at his words. They sound eerily familiar. Zeke's grandmother said almost exactly the same thing on Christmas Eve.

"I can't say any more than that", he continues.

"Any more than what?", she exclaims. "You haven't told me anything!"

Ryan reaches over and takes Sharpay's hands in his own. "I really can't say anything else. I'm not supposed to know anything either, but Cynthia... Well, let's just say she talks in her sleep."

He releases her hands and stands up. "Hey, I need to get going. I have a _date_", he says with a wink.

"But what about ...", Sharpay starts, but before she can finish he's bounded across the room and he's gone.

"Damn", Sharpay mutters in frustration. "What the hell is going on?"

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"Hey, you two!", Jennifer Bolton calls out to her son and husband. "It's time to get ready for the party."

"Just five more minutes", Troy calls back.

Father and son are playing a game of one-on-one basketball on their full-size court which occupies an absurdly large amount of their backyard.

"The Danforths throw this New Year's Eve party every year and I don't want to be late, _this year_", she adds with emphasis.

"Okay, okay, Jen. Seriously, just five more minutes and we'll be in", Jack pleads with his wife.

"Alright", she says in surrender. Realizing that this is the first time they've had a chance to bond since Troy came home, she leaves them alone and goes back into the house.

Ten minutes later, the two Bolton men enter the kitchen and Troy heads immediately to the refrigerator and pulls out two bottles of water.

"Thanks for the game, Dad", Troy says as he tosses Jack one of the bottles.

"It was a lot of fun, son." Jack leans back against the counter as he opens up his water.

"Yeah, ... I miss this", Troy sighs. "You know when we used to play everyday, I hated it. But now, I miss it ... a lot."

"It's not just the basketball, you know."

"Yeah, I know, Dad. It's the sweat too", Troy jokes.

"Ha, ha", Jack laughs back and then, asks seriously, "You know what I mean. It's a chance for us to talk about things. I understand you're not a kid anymore. You're a man now. And ... well,..."

"Dad? You're not trying to give me the _talk_ again, are you?" Troy clutches his heart in mock horror.

"'Cause when you did it the first time, I thought you were going to pass out."

"Very funny, Troy. ... You want to talk about it?

"I don't think there's any point in it, Dad. She's gone. I'm just going to have to learn to live with that, even if I don't want to."

When Troy first came home, he very briefly explained his latest distress. He told his parents an edited version of their night together and his extended search for Sharpay, including the fruitless trip to New Mexico.

"Just understand, Troy, that your mother and I are here for you."

"Thanks, Dad. I appreciate it."

"I'm worried about Troy", Jennifer Bolton turns her bright green eyes towards her husband, Jack, as she climbs into bed and joins him. It's about two o'clock in the morning and they're back home after a lovely evening with their friends, the Danforths. Troy spent most of the night sitting out on the back deck with his friend, Chad, and didn't seem to enjoy the party at all.

"I know, Jen; I'm worried too", Jack says sympathetically as he sets aside his magazine and turns to her. "I mean I've seen him moon over girls before, but this is different. This Sharpay must be someone really special."

"I wish there was some way we could help him find her", Jennifer says, almost to herself. "I wonder ... if ... well, maybe, I could ask ..."

"No!", Jack says abruptly, "I know what you're thinking Jennifer Bolton and you are not going to those people for help. Do you understand me?"

"But Jack ... they could help find her. They have the resources to find _anyone_", Jennifer explains in a pleading voice.

"No ... I forbid it", and then realizing how arcane and absurd he's sounding, amends his statement. "Look, Jen", he continues more softly, "Those people are no good. It's like they have no soul. They've hurt you in the past and they'll do it again if they have the chance, so let's not give it to them."

"You're right, honey. I'm sorry I brought it up. I just want to find a way to help Troy. I love that boy so much."

"I know, honey. I love him too. I've loved him since the day he was born", Jack sighs as he pulls her close to him.

"You're the best father he could have ever had and I'm so glad we found you." She snuggles up closer to her husband.

"I'm the one who's glad, Jen. The two of you changed my life", Jack murmurs into her hair as they both fall into a fitful sleep.

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Over in Troy's room, he's tossing restlessly, trying unsuccessfully to fall asleep. He's actually trying very hard to move on with his life, but at times like this, when it's late at night and he's physically exhausted, he can't help but drift back to that night.

"_I was the Drama Queen in high school, so let me guess. You were the super hot jock, right?", the beautiful blond asks with her head resting on his chest._

"_What do you mean by 'were the super jock'?", Troy asks jokingly. "I'm still pretty __**super**__."_

"_Oh, absolutely", she purrs as she takes her hand and starts to slowly stroke the inside of his upper thigh._

"_What are doing?", Troy squeaks in surprise._

"_Just trying to see how__** super**__ you really are." With that, her hand moves north as her head moves south and they meet right where Troy wants them to._

He springs up in the bed with a gasp.

"Damn!", Troy mutters as he gets out of the bed and heads off to yet, another cold shower.

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"This can't be right!", Troy exclaims as he rereads the letter for the third time. "That son of a ..."

"Troy!", his mother reprimands her son. "It can't be that bad. What's wrong?"

They're standing at the island in the kitchen and Jennifer is still sorting through the mail. She handed Troy a letter addressed to him from NYU and he became immediately quiet as soon as he opened it, that is until his exclamation a few seconds ago.

Troy doesn't answer right away. He and his family have had to struggle with the costs of college since he started his freshman year and even with a second mortgage on the family home, it's just not enough. Therefore, when the offer came up to pay all of his expenses for his senior year, Troy couldn't pass up the opportunity. By the same token, he also couldn't tell his parents anything about it. They just wouldn't understand.

"Umm, sorry Mom. It's nothing to worry about. I just need to go back to school a little early", he explains evasively.

"How early?", she asks with concern.

"Tomorrow, Mom. I'm sorry, but school starts next week and I need to get this ... administrative thing straightened out."

"Just be careful and let us know if we can help."

"Sure, Mom. I will", Troy says as he goes off to his room to start packing. _I can't believe he did this to me. Have I been scammed? Hell, no. I'm going back to New York City and I'm going to get my money._

TBC

Here's what I have to say about that...

Sorry it's taken me so long to update, but now I should have some time to write and I hope the next chapter won't take so long.

About Ryan in the last chapter... Okay, here's how I see it. Half the world thinks Ryan is gay and the other half think he's a hunk. Therefore, in one fell-swoop I've managed to piss off the entire world. Yea, me! Hope this chapter redeems both me and Ryan.

This chapter is loaded with clues about this plot. Did you notice all of them? Let me know.


	11. Chapter 10: Finally, they meet, but

**Baby for Sale**

Disclaimer: I only own this plot. I do not own High School Musical.

_Previously on Baby for Sale..._

_I'm going back to New York City and I'm going to get my money._

Chapter 10: Finally, they meet, but...

Sharpay is snuggled deep into her goose down comforter. She's not asleep; but by the same token, she's not fully awake either. She's in that warm, cozy, half-awake state where she's not quite ready to face the day yet.

"Goood morning, Sharpay!", Cynthia croons as she breezes into Sharpay's bedroom.

_Oh God, not her again. _Sharpay pulls the covers over her head and tries to hide from the overly chipper woman.

"Oh no you don't", Cynthia says as she starts to pull the comforter back.

"You Are Not My Mother, Cynthia!", Sharpay hisses at her. "I thought I was supposed to have my own living space. That means you have to stop barging in here whenever you feel like it."

"Oh", Cynthia says, sounding hurt at Sharpay's words, "Well, I just thought you'd like to meet Thomas' brother."

"And why on earth, would I want to meet Thomas' brother?", Sharpay asks sarcastically as she surrenders her warm haven and sits up in bed.

"Why dear, I thought you knew. He's the donor", Cynthia states matter-of-factly.

"What? I...I thought the donor was ... ", she hates to say this aloud since she finds him so distasteful, "Thomas."

It's a good thing that Cynthia wasn't drinking anything because she surely would have just spewed it across the room.

"Oh that's a good one, that is", she says in a scoffing tone. "For reasons I won't get into, Thomas' swimmers are, well, let's just say, defective. No, Sharpay. Your donor is Thomas' brother", and then, she immediately corrects herself and amends, "more correctly, he's Thomas' half-brother."

"Oh ... well ... I guess it would be a good thing for the two of us to meet", Sharpay decides and she rises to head towards the bathroom.

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Troy emerges out of the subway with a huge chip on his shoulder. He'd had to cut his winter break short to rush back to New York City to settle this financial problem. It's January 7th and school starts in one week and his tuition hasn't been paid yet. He should have known this would happen. Those people are selfish, worthless, soulless aristocrats. They've been treating him like scum since the day he was born. Well, that's not quite true. He didn't even know they existed until he was fifteen years old. That's when his mother received the telephone call that changed his life.

"_Hello?", Jennifer answered the telephone in her normal, pleasant voice. Then, she immediately tensed as she listened to what the caller was telling her. She responded with a few short answers as the person on the other end of the line was doing most of the talking._

_Everything about her changed so quickly that even her fifteen year old son, sitting at the kitchen table working on his homework, noticed it. Troy started to study her intently. Her whole body went stiff and her face paled and she looked very shaky. She was forced to grab onto the back of one of the chairs at the kitchen table to steady herself. Not normally a nosy person, Troy couldn't wait until she got off the phone to find out what's happening._

_She ended the call with a curt, "I understand. ... I'll have to talk this over with my husband before we come to any decision. ... Fine ... Yes ... Goodbye." She ended the call with a long, ragged exhale._

_Then, ... she didn't say anything. She simply went back to preparing dinner ... like nothing had happened._

"_Mom?", Troy questioned with concern. "Are you okay? What was that call about?"_

"_Nothing", she snapped out quickly. Then, she took another deep breath and continued in an apologetic tone. "I'm sorry, Troy. That ... that call just left me shaken. I promise I'll tell you what's going on, but I need to talk to your father first."_

"_Sure, I understand", Troy told her, even though he didn't._

_Dinner was a solemn event. With nervous glances shot back and forth between all three of them. Troy quickly excused himself when he was finished and headed to his room. He purposely left his door open, hoping to hear parts of their anticipated conversation. He knew his mom had given his dad a small heads-up about the mysterious telephone call because he's never seen his dad look so nervous before, but she didn't have time to tell him everything. He strained his ears to hear them and he heard ... absolutely nothing. He crept across the hall and peeked out his parent's bedroom window which faced the rear of the house. _

_There they were, standing in the backyard speaking lowly, but very intensely, to each other. His father looked angry and his mother meek, not a look she usually assumed. He could only hear snatches of conversation and it didn't make a lot of sense to him._

_Jennifer Bolton was standing with her arms crossed in front of her in a defensive posture. She said pleadingly, "... but he's dying, Jack." _

_Jack stormed back at his wife, "And why should we care, Jen? Hell ... have you forgotten how you were treated by those people?"_

"_But Troy may be his only chance."_

"_I don't think this is a good idea."_

_She ran her fingers nervously through her hair and asked __**the**__ question, "Don't you think it's about time we told Troy the truth?"_

_Jack had his hands at his side with defeat written all over his face, "Damn ... I don't know. How's he going to take it? I mean ... how's he going to ..."_

"_Jack, Troy loves you to distraction. That will never change", Jennifer Bolton reassured her husband._

"_I hope you're right, Jen. I hope to God you're right."_

_They clasped their hands together and started to head back into the house. Troy quickly ran back to his room and hooked up his Sony Discman and lied back on his bed, trying to calm his breathing._

_Less than five minutes later, there came the inevitable knock on his door. Together, Jack and Jennifer Bolton entered their son's room to explain in eerily calm voices how they had been living a lie for the past fifteen years._

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"He's on his way up", Cynthia announces as she walks into Thomas' study. "He sounds royally ticked. What have you done, Thomas?", she asks suspiciously.

"Meee?", Thomas asks with false surprise. "What makes you think this is my fault?"

"Because it usually is, that's why", Cynthia states. She walks over to the bar and pours herself a bourbon.

"You know, you shouldn't be drinking in your condition, darling", indicating her fake pregnancy tummy.

"Oh, can it, you ass and tell me what's going on", she demands as she downs her drink.

"Weeeell", he sighs and swivels his luxurious leather chair back and forth in a lazy motion. "It appears that there was some miscommunication with my accountant and my dear brother's second payment slipped through the cracks."

"Miscommunication, my eye!", she exclaims as she rushes over and grips the arms of the chair tightly to stop his inane swiveling. "I saw the cashier's check, Thomas. What did you do with it?", she demands angrily.

"Okay, so maybe I found something else more worthy to spend it on. It's no big deal. He called yesterday and I've already had the accountant send over another check."

"Give it, now", she demands in a menacing tone. "I'll hand it over to him myself."

The chime of the door bell starts and Cynthia calls out to the butler.

"Fulton, show him directly into the sitting room. We'll meet him there."

"Certainly, madam", Fulton clips back to her as he straightens his morning coat and heads toward the door.

Cynthia turns back to Thomas and explains, "We'll just let him cool his heels for awhile. Just to let him know who's in charge."

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Thinking back to that night, Troy has worked himself up into a right funk. When this snooty looking older man opens the door and looks down his nose at him, Troy is in no mood to be pleasant. Therefore, it should come as no surprise when he blasts out at the man, "Where's Thomas!?"

Seemingly unfazed by the young man's outburst, Fulton replies calmly, "Right this way, ... sir."

Then, without waiting to see if Troy is following, Fulton turns and walks off toward a set of closed doors. He opens the double doors with a flourish and motions for Troy to enter. Fulton, himself, stays outside the room.

Troy follows him with a grumble and walks into the empty sitting room. He whirls around when he realizes that Thomas is no where to be seen.

"Hey! You were supposed to take me see Thomas! Where is he?", Troy yells at the butler.

Fulton replies in his unflappable voice, "Mr. And Mrs. Vanderbilt will be with you shortly, sir."

With that, he closes the doors and Troy hears the lock turn.

"Damn", Troy murmurs. _Have I just been punk'd?_

He slowly starts to walk around the ornate room. _It's as over the top as everything else in this family._

It takes him back to a similarly overly decorated house,..., no, mansion, he went to with his mother.

_Troy and Jennifer entered the dimly lit room and as soon as Troy's eyes adjust, he saw a figure lying motionless in an ornate bed in the center of the room. A nurse was sitting next to the bed reading a novel and she quickly put it away and stood up when she noticed them. _

"_Mr. Vanderbilt is sleeping now", she whispered._

_Troy started to walk forward curiously, but Jennifer stayed next to the open doorway._

"_Nonsense, Rebecca", a weak voice rasped out. "I'm awake; send them over. I want to take a look at my savior."_

_Troy walked up to the foot of the bed and stared up at the man with ill-disguised hatred. Jennifer didn't move._

"_Come closer, boy!", the deathly pale older man ordered him in a scratchy voice. _

_Troy begrudgingly walked up to the head of the bed on the side opposite the nurse. _

"_So you're Jennifer's boy, eh?", the old man said as he studied Troy, obviously sizing him up. "Huh, you have my eyes, you know?" The wizened old man had runny-looking, faded blue eyes. Troy could hear his mother inhale sharply behind him._

"_Look, I'm not interested in getting to know you or knowing anything about you. I'm only doing this for my mom. I'll let them do the test and I'll do the transplant if I'm a match, but that's it. I don't ever want to see you again. Do you understand me?", he spat out._

"_You remind me a lot of myself at your age."_

_Troy didn't offer a reply. He simply turned on his heel and quickly exited the room. Jennifer was about to follow him when the old man called out to her._

"_Jennifer, wait!", he called in a stronger, demanding voice. Then, he softens slightly and amended, "Please, let me talk to you."_

_She slowly approached the bed, but stopped about six feet short of it._

"_You're still a beautiful woman, Jennifer."_

"_I was still a child when we last saw each other, William --- barely seventeen years old --- a child who was mesmerized by an older, sophisticated man who took an interest in her. I'm not that child anymore --- not by a long shot." With that, she turned on her heel and left the room._

_On her way out, she could barely hear his whispered apology, "I'm so sorry, Jennifer." _

_She didn't acknowledge him._

Cynthia unlocks and opens the sitting room doors with a welcoming smile. If it's one thing Troy knows to be cautious of, it's a _welcoming_ Cynthia Vanderbilt. However, the sight of this normally pencil-thin woman with a protruding stomach is enough to halt Troy mid-rant.

"Hello, Cyn...", Troy trails off in shock and continues to stare at her mid-section.

"Troy, darling", she drolls as she draws him into a tight embrace. "It's soooo good to see you again. It's been ages. What is it? Four or five years? You're soooo grown up now", she says as she slowly strokes his muscular arms.

"Seven", he snaps back and then pulls away from her reach. "It's been seven years, Cynthia."

"Yes, of course. That dreadful business with your father."

"Don't call him that. William Vanderbilt was never a father to me. He was just ... just ... "

"A sperm donor?", Thomas Vanderbilt supplies as he walks over to join the two. "It's amazing how things have come full circle, isn't it?"

Troy guiltily flashes a glance at Cynthia's pregnant stomach and starts to feel a little queasy.

"Although as I remember it, there was a lot more than just a donation going on between your mother and _our_ father, wasn't there?", Thomas continues.

"Don't talk about my mother like that, Thomas. You know as well as I do what ... _our_ father did to her", Troy hisses. "She was little more than a child."

Ignoring Troy's comments, Thomas notices how Troy was staring at Cynthia and he decides to set him straight. "And don't be ridiculous, Troy. Cynthia's not the one carrying your progeny", he says pointing at Cynthia. "Cynthia doesn't have a womb. Do you dear?"

"No", she answers shortly. And then to Troy, she explains, "I had cervical cancer many years ago, Troy. I was forced to have a hysterectomy. I can't carry a child."

"But ... ", Troy says in confusion as he points at her belly.

"Oh, this old thing", Cynthia says, indicating her stomach. "It's just your standard strap-on model." She lifts her blouse to show him the hidden expanse of stryo-foam.

"I'm so confused", Troy groans.

"Cynthia needs to appear pregnant in order to collect the inheritance", Thomas explains.

Cynthia gives Thomas a warning glance which he brushes off. "Oh, come now, Cynthia. Troy's family. Surely, we can let him in on our little secret ... for the right price." With that, he retrieves the cashier's check from the top of the desk and hands it over to a stunned Troy Bolton.

Troy takes the pro-offered check and looks down at the amount ... and is speechless. $250,000!!!

"I thought it would be better for you to get your fair share of this money. Don't you?", Thomas says in a conspiratorial manner.

"Well, ... this is a lot more than I expected. And I don't understand, if Cynthia isn't really pregnant than what are you paying me for?"

"Oh, there is a Vanderbilt heir. It's just not being carried by Cynthia."

"We hired a surrogate", Cynthia provides. "A young girl down on her luck and willing to help us on our little project."

"Yes, and willing to take our money in exchange for the use of her body for nine months and her silence about the true nature of the _project_."

"And what ... exactly ... is the true nature this project?", Troy asks vehemently.

"Well ... it's all about dear old Uncle Cecil...", Thomas starts to explain as Cynthia continues to watch him carefully, trying to determine why Thomas is spilling the beans to his half-brother. She casually walks over the sitting room bar and, this time, pours Troy a shot of vodka. He's going to need it.

Ten minutes later, Troy is finishing his second shot and is still staring at the enormous check in his hands.

"So this girl ... the surrogate ... she knows all about this too?"

"Of course", Thomas quips.

"And she received an amount this large?", he asked, indicating to the check. Troy doesn't know why he's so interested, but he just needs to know.

"Well, her commitment is greater than yours, so her compensation is larger, accordingly."

"Wow..." He's still staring at the check. "But this is more than I needed", Troy starts.

"Just consider it a down payment on graduate school", Cynthia croons. Finally, seeing where Thomas is trying to lead the young man. "And your assurance that this information goes no further than this room."

"Uhhh, sure. No one would believe me anyway", Troy says as he rises from the comfortable sofa and prepares to leave.

"So, we shouldn't need to see you again. Agreed?", Thomas asks him cautiously.

"Oh absolutely", Troy says honestly.

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Sharpay is standing in front of the hallway mirror, checking her makeup. _I'm not primping for a sperm donor, am I? Of course not, I'm just trying to look nice. You should always try to make a good first impression. God, Sharpay, you sound just like your mother._

She wanders over to the kitchen where Fulton is preparing lunch.

"What's taking them so long, Fulton?", Sharpay asks as she snatches a carrot stick off the tray. At a little over four months, her appetite has definitely picked up, but she's trying her best to make healthy choices.

"Well, not that we should be discussing the personal lives of our employers", Fulton says as he leans closer to Sharpay and she just rolls her eyes, "but apparently, Mr. Vanderbilt's younger brother is dissatisfied with his payment for his ... contribution ... to ..." His eyes drop lasciviously to her stomach and she self-consciously crosses her arms in a protective gesture.

"You mean he charged his own brother for ... for", but she can't finish.

"Yes ... he did. And it wasn't enough and now he's here demanding more." Fulton's eyes light up at the thought of the gossip he is conveying. He thought he would have to wait until he arrived back home that evening to spread this latest rumor, but this is much better than telling Mother. Why, the shocked expression on Sharpay's face is delicious.

"That's horrible", she replies truthfully. "I'm not sure I even want to meet him anymore."

At that moment the study door opens and Cynthia comes out, followed by Thomas and a younger man with light brown hair who is currently hidden behind Thomas. Because of the penthouse's open floor plan, there is no way that the three of them can't notice Sharpay and Fulton standing in the kitchen. Cynthia sees them first and flounces over to Sharpay with a smile on her face.

"Sharpay, dear. Here's the man of the hour --- our very own, Troy Bolton", she croons as the young man steps out from behind Thomas, and Sharpay gets her first good look at him.

"And Troy", Cynthia continues, "This is the girl we were telling you about, Sharpay Evans."

Sharpay's eyes widen to the size of saucers and at the same time her vision narrows to a pinpoint as she locks eyes with him.

"Oh God", she exclaims as she takes a few hesitant steps toward him. "It's you." It's the very same man who's been haunting her dreams, both day and night, for the past four and a half months. And she finally has a name, Troy. What a beautiful name! She takes a few more steps closer to him when she notices the look in his eyes. For some reason she thought she would see her own expression of wonderment and joy reflect in them. Instead, she sees ... open disdain.

When he first sees her, Troy is immediately taken back to that night four and a half months ago. And he's thrilled, but then he looks down at her stomach and remembers what Thomas and Cynthia just told him about their surrogate. She is a part of this conspiracy --- a very big part of it. They had paid her to carry their child, correction, ... his child. And apparently, they had paid her a lot --- a lot more than they paid him. How could he have misjudged her? He'd been living this fantasy in his mind about what it would be like when he finds her, but this definitely isn't it. And another thing, he made his _donation_ to this project back in August and by the looks of her, she's probably five or six months pregnant. _So ... hell ... she could have already been pregnant when we were together last fall ... with my baby. No, that's not right. I'm just the donor and she's just the surrogate. You can't think about it like that._

Therefore, Troy decides to not think about it at all. Instead, he decides to lash out at this woman who's ruled his life for so long.

"You!", he seethes, "You're their surrogate, their womb for rent!" He spits out with venom dripping from the voice.

"I ... I ... well, yes", Sharpay concedes as she cradles her stomach. And then, it hits her. This man, this incubus of her dreams, is the father of her baby. NO! That's not right. He's the sperm donor for his brother and his wife. And he charged them! And then, he came back to demand more money! Her Ice Queen mask that she perfected in high school, came sliding down into place. "And who the hell are you to talk to me like that? You're little more than a whore yourself", she spits back at him.

"Well, it takes one to know one", Troy snaps and then, he turns and exits quickly through the front door with a loud slam. _I can't believe I wasted all that time trying to find her. Well, that's over with; now, I'm going to enjoy myself._

Sharpay bursts into tears and runs down the hallway toward her rooms. _I can't believe this happened. Even if he is a callous bastard, she still loves him with all her heart --- a heart that is currently breaking in half._

Thomas looks over at Cynthia and sighs with contentment. "Aaaah, this went better than I'd hoped."

Cynthia eyes Thomas curiously and asks him, "You mean you planned all this?"

He shrugs and says, "Well, they obviously know each other, but I had no way of knowing about that. However, I did want to stir up some animosity between the two of them."

"Why would you want to do that?", Cynthia asks.

"Well, you **know **what they say, 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend.'"

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?"

"If we keep them separated, they won't ban together and turn against us", he replies. "Sharpay is already getting suspicious. Keeping them apart will only serve us. And now that Troy has accepted an exorbitantly large fee for wanking into a jar, he's tied himself to this project. Even if he tries to cause trouble later, no one would believe he didn't know about everything from the beginning."

"Now I remember why I married you, dear", Cynthia says with pride.

TBC

Here's what I have to say about that...

I've been visiting relatives for Christmas and this is the first chance I've had to get access to the internet. I'm suffering serious withdrawal. Right now, I'm in a hotel in the Knoxville, TN with my family and hurrah!, there's high speed internet here.

You all hate me now, don't you? Well, I did call it a Romance/Angst, didn't I? Can I redeem myself by promising you that it will end well. I swear.

In Troy's flashback to when he was 15, that would have been in 2000. I don't think Ipods had been invented and most people didn't have MP3 players. That's why he is listening to his Sony Discman.

Somebody made a really close guess about Troy's parentage, but it was wrong. There'll be more about that later.

And yes, Fulton lives with his mother.

If you like, please let me know. If you don't, please let me know.


	12. Chapter 11: Depression and Revelations

**Baby for Sale**

Disclaimer: I only own this plot. I do not own High School Musical.

_Previously on Baby for Sale..._

"_If we keep them separated, they won't ban together and turn against us", he replies. "Sharpay is already getting suspicious. Keeping them apart will only serve us. And now that Troy has accepted an exorbitantly large fee for wanking into a jar, he's tied himself to this project. Even if he tries to cause trouble later, no one would believe he didn't know about everything from the beginning."_

"_Now I remember why I married you, dear", Cynthia says with pride._

Chapter 11: Depression and Revelations

"You and your brilliant ideas", Cynthia grumbles as she throws a nearly full food tray down on the kitchen counter. "It's been three weeks since the big confrontation and she's still only nibbling at her food. At this rate, she's going to lose that baby and then, where will our precious project be?"

"Oh, you little worry-wart. Have faith. Everything will work out", Thomas says as he casually sips an espresso.

"I'm genuinely worried about her, Thomas", Cynthia sighs as she slumps into the seat across from her husband. "She's a good kid."

"She's a good kid?", he repeats. "What have you done to the devious wife that I know and loath?"

She jumps back to her feet and her brown eyes burn with hatred when she hisses, "Quit being such a selfish prick!" She quickly storms from the room.

Thomas goes back to his coffee without comment.

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"Troy! Man, you gotta wake up!", shouts Chad as he enters their room and slams the door for emphasis.

School has been in session for over two weeks and Chad is very worried about his friend. Last semester, it was the endless moping around about this Sharpay chick and now he's totally forgotten about her and turned into this crazed frat brother --- boozing and partying all night, every night. _And hey, I'm supposed to be the crazed frat bro, not Troy!_

"You've already missed your first two classes, so get your ass movin'."

With his final words Chad stomps over to Troy's bed and jerks the covers off his friend. And ... oops! He's not alone.

Chad jumps back in surprise.

"Oh God! Help me, I'm blind!", he screams sarcastically in a girlish voice.

"Ooooo, hi there, Chad", a seductive female voice croons slowly from the bed where she is spooned naked in front of an equally naked Troy Bolton. She doesn't even try to cover herself.

"Umm, hi there, GiGi", Chad answers her with genuine embarrassment.

Gabriella rolls over on her back and stretches languidly, pushing Troy away in the process. Chad, to his credit, turns around and refuses to look at her.

With his back facing Troy's bed, Chad asks Gabriella, "Hey, could you, ... um, ... wake up Troy? He's late for class."

"Oh sure, Chad. Anything for you." Then, she rolls back over to Troy and commences to wake him as only a skank of the truest sense of the word could do. When Chad hears the distinctive slurping sounds coming from the bed, he can't help but turn around to peek. After all, he's only human --- and a human male, at that.

"Oh hell, woman! That is just nasty. You do know I'm standing still here, right?", Chad exclaims before bolting from the room.

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Thomas enters the lobby of his apartment building with a squash racket in one hand and his gym bag in the other. He is perturbed and highly insulted when the doorman wasn't there to open the door of his limo for him. He makes a mental note to inform the management about this. The man should be fired if he's not doing his job. While in the midst of all this inner dialog, he is completely stunned when he's nearly bowled over by the self-same doorman whom Thomas has just this second been disparaging.

"Excuse us, sir. Coming through!", the doorman shouts as he rushes past Thomas and opens the door wide for the two EMT's following him with a stretcher.

Thomas has had enough of this and is about to vocalize his objections when he sees a very familiar looking blond man and woman running along behind the stretcher.

"Ryan! Cynthia! What's going on?", Thomas shouts to them as he turns around and follows them out the door.

"Thomas!", Cynthia shrieks at him. "I told you something bad would happen. Sharpay passed out, you dolt! She might lose the baby!"

"Oh God, this is horrible. What about the money?", Thomas asks disparagingly.

They are on the sidewalk outside the apartment building now and the medical personnel are loading Sharpay into the ambulance. Cynthia whirls around at him viciously. "Money?! Is that all you think about!", she screams at him. Then, she turns to Ryan and says gently, "Go with her, dear; make sure everything is okay and call me, alright?"

"Sure, Cyn. I'll call you when I hear something", Ryan replies and then, gives her a quick peck on the cheek before climbing into the ambulance and driving off.

Thomas turns around and follows Cynthia slowly back into the building. He doesn't even notice when the doorman promptly opens the door for him.

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Sharpay slowly opens her eyes and quickly shuts them again when the bright light blinds her. _Ugh, Cynthia must have been in here again and opened up the curtains. Damn, I've told her time and time again to stop doing that and just leave me alone._

She opens her eyes again, more slowly this time. It's better now and she starts to slowly look around the room and very quickly realizes that she's not where she thinks she is. She's in some sort of hospital room, but before she can dwell on this further, Ryan looms into her face with an exaggeratedly cheerful face. _God, what's he doing here?_

"Hey Sharpay! I'm so glad you're awake", Ryan exclaims excitedly.

"Wh... where am I? What happened?", Sharpay asks as she tries to sit up and instantly notices that her right arm is hooked to an IV line and on the middle finger of her left hand is a small plastic spring-like device with a red LED light on it. The device is attached to a long wire that feeds into a panel on the wall behind her head. She lies back down and instinctively reaches up to scratch her itchy nose with her left hand and that's when she realizes that she has oxygen tubes sticking up her nose.

"Oh, you're not supposed to mess with that", Ryan says gently, indicating the oxygen line that Sharpay is currently trying to pull out of her nose. He reaches up to adjust the prongs back in Sharpay's nose.

Sharpay takes a deep breath and asks in as calm of a voice as she can, "Ryan, why am I in the hospital? What happened? I don't remember anything."

"You fainted and Cynthia and I couldn't wake you up, so she called 911."

Sharpay immediately reaches both hands down to her abdomen, wincing at the pain this causes her right arm where the IV needle tugs at her skin. There's more medical apparatus attached to her stomach. There's some sort of box belted onto her stomach with a wire running from it to a monitor perched on top of a mobile pole next to the bed.

Ryan offers an explanation, "That's the fetal monitor, Sharpay. But don't worry. Everything's okay. The baby's fine, but you're very dehydrated and malnourished."

"But the baby's fine?", Sharpay asks with trepidation.

"Yes, but only just. They're going to bring in a portable ultrasound machine in a little while just to double check, but it's heartbeat is strong. See...", Ryan points to the pole with the monitor on it.

Sharpay looks over and sees a jagged line bleeping across a small screen. She lets out a sigh of relief and slumps back onto the pillow.

Ryan takes her hand and holds it gently, "Sharpay, I know you've been having ... problems lately, but for the sake of the baby, you need to take better care of yourself."

"I know. I'm ... sorry", she whispered guiltily.

"I don't understand what happened between you and Troy Bolton, but you can't let that interfere with the health of the baby."

"I said I know, okay?", Sharpay responses in subdued anger.

Ryan lets out a long sigh and looks as if he's come to a decision. "Maybe, I should explain a few things about Troy." He settles herself into the chair next to the bed --- the chair that Sharpay now realizes he had been occupying while waiting for Sharpay to regain consciousness. _What a sweet guy._

"I know more about this family than I'll ever be able to admit, but you need to understand some things. Okay ... you know that Troy is Thomas' half-brother." At Sharpay's nod he continues. "Troy was born when Thomas and Cynthia were in college and were already engaged", he adds. "They were twenty-one. Jennifer, Troy's mother, worked for the family at their home in Maine. Her own mother was the Vanderbilt's head cook and Jennifer worked there during the summers and any school breaks. Oh, and then there's Jack Bolton. Jack was the chauffeur, Mr. Vanderbilt's favorite, so he traveled with the old man wherever he went. Anyway", he sighs, before continuing, "it all happened that fateful summer of 1985..."

_An attractive teenage girl of about sixteen knocked twice on the bedroom room, as she'd been instructed, and entered the dimly lit room without waiting for an answer, again, as she'd been instructed. Her long auburn hair fell down over her face, but her hands were full so she couldn't move it out of the way. She awkwardly balanced a heavy tray loaded down with a large carafe of coffee, cream, sugar, toasted onion bagels, and butter, as she'd been instructed. It took two hands to carry it and she was forced to shut the door with a not-so-gentle swing of her foot. The door inadvertently slammed closed with a loud bang._

"_Sally! Woman, what the hell are you doing banging around so loudly at this hour of the morning?", bellowed a gravelly voice from the massive king-sized bed which dominated the room. "You'll give a man a heart attack."_

_William Vanderbilt was sitting up in his bed with papers spread all around. A chronic insomniac, he had already been hard at work for over two hours despite the fact that he was supposed to be visiting his summer home to rest and relax._

"_Ummm, it's not Sally, Mr. Vanderbilt", comes a shy, quiet voice. "I'm Jennifer Watkins, Sally's daughter; Mama's sick today and she couldn't come in, so she sent me. I help her most days anyway, so I know what needs to be done." The more she spoke, the faster she spoke and the more nervous she became. _

"_Step up here, girl, and let's have a look at you", commanded the older man. _

_Jennifer stepped forward nervously with the tray weighing heavily in her hands. _

"_Well, put down that tray and get that blasted hair out of your eyes, girl." She quickly placed the tray on a small table near the bed and swept the hair out of her eyes, standing up tall for his inspection. It also allowed her to get a better look at him._

_Mr. Vanderbilt was in his early sixties and still incredibly handsome with salt and pepper hair and the most striking pair of blue eyes that Jennifer had ever seen._

"_My ... my ... so you're Sallie's girl, eh?", at her curt nod, he continued, "Well, you certainly have grown into a beautiful young woman." _

_Despite herself, she flushed at his comment and replied with a mumbled thank you._

"_Well, don't just stand there, Jennifer. Bring me my breakfast."_

_The summer continued at a brisk pace for Jennifer and she enjoyed working with her mother and the other servants at the house. The Vanderbilt family was another matter. Mrs. Vanderbilt was a shrew and seemed to take special delight in embarrassing and humiliating Jennifer. Fortunately, she seldom came to the home, preferring instead to stay in the city. _

_Jennifer reveled in all the attention that Mr. Vanderbilt paid her. He took such a genuine interest in her. He was so kind. He even promised to help fund her college education. Jennifer's father had died when she was young, so any attention from an older man was relished. Had she only known._

"_Don't look at me like I'm crazy, Jen. I'm just saying you should be careful, okay?", Jack Bolton said intently as she looked straight into Jennifer's bright green eyes. _

_They were standing in the garden behind the large house and well hidden from view._

"_Jack ... Jack ... Jack", she scoffed at him. "If I didn't know better I'd say you were jealous. William is just being nice to me; that's all."_

"_William?", he asked incredulously._

"_Well yes, Mr. Vanderbilt said I should call him by his first name."_

"_Oh really ..."_

"_Don't you 'oh really' me, Jack Bolton. I know what I'm doing. He's just a nice man who probably sees me as the daughter he never had."_

"_Ha! That's a good one. I believe he married 'the daughter he never had' ten years ago. You know after he divorced his wife of twenty years because she'd gotten too old for him." He waits a beat. "Jen, I'm just worried about you. I ... I care about you, okay?"_

"_I know you do, Jack. And I ... care for you too, but there's nothing to worry about. Trust me?"_

"_I'll try."_

_Three nights later, a frantic looking Jennifer Watkins came stumbling out of the servant's entrance in the back of mansion. It was raining heavily and she nearly fell in the slippery mud as she ran towards the garage. _

_Jack was lying on his back under a silver 1923 Rolls Royce. He loved cars and it was actually an honor to be able to work on one of these classic beauties. He was startled by the loud banging on the garage door and he let out a curse as he hit his head when he was coming out from under the vehicle._

"_Hang on", he yelled while he walked towards the door. He wiped the oil off his hands with a rag and tossed it into the bin as he opened the door._

"_Oh my God", he murmured in shock at what he saw._

_Jennifer Watkins was standing there shivering and not because of the cold. She was bare-foot and soppy wet, wearing a plain cotton dress that is improperly buttoned and it was obvious, due to the soaked clothing, that she was wearing nothing else under that dress. But it was the look of complete misery and betrayal on her face that made Jack's blood run cold._

_Without saying a word, he guided her into his small apartment which was attached to the garage and eased her down onto the sofa. Then, he ran and got a towel to drape around her shaking shoulders._

"_Jennifer, oh baby, what happened?", he asked gently as he sat down beside her and started to rub the towel around on her back._

"_He ... he ...", she whimpered, but she couldn't say anymore._

_She didn't have too. Jack understood completely and he knew exactly who 'he' was._

"_That son of a bitch! I'll kill him", Jack exclaimed as he jumped up in anger._

"_No! Don't! You don't understand", she pleaded as she pulled him back down into the seat with her._

"_What's not to understand, Jennifer? William Vanderbilt raped you and I'm going to kill him."_

_She pulled her hands away from his and stared down at the floor in silence. _

"_No", she started quietly, "No, he didn't. He didn't ... force me ... not really."_

"_What's that supposed to mean, Jennifer? You went to his bed willingly? You seduced _him_? What?" Jack was starting to get angry._

"_I ... I didn't know it would go so far ... you know. And then, when I wanted to stop ...", she trailed off, still staring at the floor._

"_Did you ask him to stop, Jen? Did you?"_

"_I ... no ... no, I didn't. I was afraid of what might happen, so I didn't say anything. I didn't say anything, Jack. I just let him ... and then, ... when he was done, he fell asleep and I came here. Oh Jack, I was so st..stupid. How could I be so stupid? He wasn't trying to help me, was he?"_

"_No babe, he wasn't."_

_She continued, "He jjjust wanted me in his bed."_

"_Yeah, ... I'm sorry."_

"Well, Jennifer spent the rest of the summer trying to avoid Mr. Vanderbilt, which actually wasn't too difficult", Ryan continues with the story. "See ... it was the thrill of the chase that was exciting to him. Once he caught his trophy, he quickly lost interest. Unfortunately for Jennifer, once was all it took and by the end of the summer, she found herself two months pregnant with William Vanderbilt's bastard.

"When William's wife found out, she had Jennifer and her mother fired. The only surprising part of the whole thing was that Jack Bolton went with them. It seems that this tragedy had brought the two of them together and they were married before the end of the year. Therefore, little Troy was given Jack Bolton's surname. No one ever heard anything of them until fifteen years later when William Vanderbilt lay dying of an advanced case of leukemia."

Ryan then told Sharpay about how Troy tried to save his biological father's life by agreeing to a bone marrow transplant, but to no avail. Even though the transplant was a success; it came too late and the old man was dead three months later.

"Wow ...", Sharpay comments solemnly as she tries to process what she's just been told. "That's some story."

"Well, it's the truth, Sharpay. Something that isn't told very often in this family. And speaking of the truth, what's going on with you and Troy? Cynthia told me about your little reunion or should I say, fight? How do you even know him?"

_Oh boy, how do I tell this one? Gee, he was this fantastic one-night stand that I had after a night of drinking and clubbing. And I've been having these erotic dreams about him ever since. No, that won't work. _ "We met ... briefly ... back in August, right before I signed on with the Vanderbilts. I wanted to find him again, but we didn't have a chance to exchange phone numbers", Sharpay tells him. _Or even names_, she adds silently.

"Really?", Ryan responds with a raised eyebrow. "How interesting? I understand why Troy was angry with you because Thomas told him some boldface lies about you."

"What?!", Sharpay exclaims.

"I'll explain later ... but why did you react the way you did?"

"Well, Mr. Fulton told me that Troy was only here to demand more money."

"And you believed Fulton?", Ryan asks incredulously.

"Yes", Sharpay admits sheepishly.

"Poor naïve, little Sharpay. Fulton's just a gossipy old lady. Troy wasn't there to get _more_ money; he was just there to get the money that was promised to him."

"Really? ... Then, why did he treat me the way he did?" Sharpay was starting to get a headache.

Ryan patiently explained the truth and the twisted lies that Thomas had told about her. Just as he was finishing, the technician came in with the ultrasound machine.

"Well, I'll give you some privacy for awhile; but don't worry, I'm not going anywhere. Cynthia's really worried about you and so am I", Ryan reassures her before leaving.

He doesn't notice the older gray haired woman lurking near the door when he left.

TBC

Here's what I have to say about that...

Sorry, I think this chapter is kind of slow moving, but we needing to know the whole story about Troy's parentage.

Hey guys... Thanks for all the kind reviews and support, but I've got a question. Am I 'droning on'? I've been accused of that and yeah, it seems like I have a hang up on Sharpay and pregnancy, but I swear my next idea (which is currently eating away at my brain) and Castaways (which I AM going to finish) have nothing to do with pregnancy. It's just the natural consequence of sex, you know. Just ask Jaimie Lynn Spears.

Gosh, I just realized that I'm droning in this A/N. Anyway, am I droning? Should I even continue this?

Thanks. I'd appreciate your opinion.


	13. Chapter 12: The Truths Come Out

**Baby for Sale**

Disclaimer: I only own this plot. I do not own High School Musical.

_Previously on Baby for Sale..._

"_Well, I'll give you some privacy for awhile; but don't worry, I'm not going anywhere. Cynthia's really worried about you and so am I", Ryan reassures her before leaving._

_He doesn't notice the older gray haired woman lurking near the door when he left._

Chapter 12: The Truths Come Out

Ryan is watching the Sharpay's door and when the ultrasound technician leaves, he taps on the door and opens it.

"Hey, are you decent?", he questions before stepping completely into the room.

Sharpay is sitting up in the bed, holding a piece of paper in her hand and crying quietly to herself.

_Oh no, it's the baby_, Ryan thinks sadly.

"I'm so stupid", she mumbles. "How could I be so stupid, Ryan?", she asks without pulling her gaze away from the paper.

He quickly approaches the bedside and says gently, "I'm so sorry, Sharpay. I really thought we got here in time."

Ignoring him, she grips the paper so tightly that her hand turns white and starts to tremble slightly. "What ever made me think I'd ever be able to give him up?"

"Huh? Him who?", asks a confused Ryan.

Now she finally does look up at him. She points to the paper she's been clutching when she says simply, "My son, that's who."

"Oh, wow", Ryan says in awe as he takes the paper into his hands --- paper that turns out to be a small printout from the sonogram of the baby. "This is the baby? And it's okay?"

Sharpay nods twice and adds, "And it's a he, by the way."

"Uh yeah, I can actually see that", Ryan smirks.

"Can not!", she says indignantly.

"Oh yes, I can", he says and adds as he points to something on the picture, "See ... it's right there."

"Oh my God, you're right", Sharpay says with a blush.

"I think you should call Troy", Ryan announces, out of the blue.

"What? Why?"

"I just think you have a lot to discuss is all", Ryan says, somewhat evasively. "Especially, now that you know he's not a scumbag."

"I suppose ..., but I don't even know how to contact him."

"Hmmm, neither do I, but I do know who to ask."

"Dear old Cynthia?", Sharpay suggests with a slightly raised eyebrow.

"She's not bad. ... Well, at least, she's definitely the least of those two evils. That's for sure." Ryan hands her the picture back and takes her hand and hold on to it tightly. "Don't worry. I'll get his address and phone number for you. I have this feeling that everything is going to work out fine."

However before he can leave, a nurse comes in to check her vitals.

"Now, I know you're worried about your sister", starts the young, perky nurse, "but what she needs the most right now is to rest." Then, she packs up her equipment and leaves.

"Sister?", Sharpay asks with a smirk.

"Well, I had to tell them that when I checked you in. Otherwise, they wouldn't let me stay", Ryan explain with an embarrassed look on his face.

"Who in the world would ever believe we were related?"

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Sharpay is just about to doze off, finally feeling as if she can sleep peacefully for the first time in three weeks. When suddenly someone is insistently shaking her shoulder.

"Ms. Evans ... Ms. Evans ... wake up, dear. It's important that I talk to you", says an older woman's voice.

"Huh? What?", mumbles Sharpay. _God, I hate hospitals. They wake you up every hour to check you and are surprised when you can't sleep._

"Good, you're awake. I've been trying to catch you alone since I first saw you, dear. I was sure it was you and I was right. Oh dear, you don't know how much I've wanted to find you, but I had no idea how. The patient records are sealed and I only had your name and you weren't in the phone book", the gray haired nurse rambles on.

"I'm sorry... do I know you?", she asks in confusion. She does look a little familiar.

The older woman takes a deep breath to rein in her nervousness.

"I'm Sheila Henderson." At Sharpay's blank stare, she continues, "I was Dr. Matsui's nurse during your ... implantation."

"Oh, yeah. I remember now. Why are you here?"

"I quit my job with Dr. Matsui the week after you were there." Sheila lets out a sigh. "It was the guilt."

"Guilt?", Sharpay questions, suddenly paying full attention to what the older woman has to say.

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Ryan knocks lightly on the Vanderbilt's door and when he doesn't hear anything, he takes out his key and opens the door. Cynthia is incredibly well organized and he's sure it won't be hard to find Troy's telephone number in her day planner. With that in mind, he heads directly to her bedroom where he knows she keeps it. Half way across the room, he jerks to a halt when he hears a noise coming from the kitchen.

Slowly coming around the corner Ryan jumps back in surprise would have fallen to the floor if it weren't for his cat-like reflexes honed through years of dance and gymnastics. There, standing at the opening of the large kitchen, is a skillet-wielding Cynthia Vanderbilt. She is holding a large black cast-iron skillet in one hand, precariously at that, and her other hand is holding an ice pack to her red and rapidly swelling eye.

"Oh God, Ryan", Cynthia exhales in relief, "I thought that bastard, Thomas, had gotten away and come back here."

Ryan instantly softens when he gets a good look at her face. "Cyn, baby, what's happened? Did Thomas hurt you?"

He takes the skillet from her hand and gently moves the ice pack away to get a better look at her eye. It's red and puffy and almost swollen completely shut. He lovingly brushes a finger along the outer edge of the damage and she flinches in pain.

"Baby, I'm so sorry", Ryan says gently. He really does care for this woman and now his blood is starting to boil at the thought of what that bastard has obviously done to her. "Where is he?! I'll kill him."

She pulls his hand away from her face and holds it in both both of hers.

"Calm down, sweetheart", she says sincerely. "The police have already taken care of him."

"You called the police?"

"Actually, the neighbors called them because of all the screaming", she says wryly.

"Screaming... I'm really going to kill him."

"Not me, silly. Thomas was the one doing the screaming. In fact, the police said they would be taking him to the hospital before they booked him. It appears I inadvertently broke his nose during our little discussion."

"Oh, so that explains the screaming...", Ryan adds.

"Actually, he was screaming because I kicked him in the balls right before I broke his nose. ... No one hits me and gets away with it", Cynthia says proudly. "I'm supposed to go down to the police station and file charges, but I was trying to make myself a little more presentable."

"That's my Cynthia, but I would have never expected Thomas to get violent. That doesn't seem like his style."

"Oooo, be careful with that", Cynthia chastises, but without any real ire.

They have moved to the sofa in the living room and Ryan is holding the ice pack against her eye.

"And yeah, that violent outburst from Thomas surprised me too ... obviously. Otherwise, he would have never caught with such a sucker punch." She relaxes towards Ryan and exhales a slow breath. "Our _discussion_ centered around Sharpay and the baby. Look Ryan, I'm no saint. I've done a lot of evil, wicked things in my life, but ..."

"You're starting to regret this big plan of Thomas'?"

"Not starting, dear. Already have. In fact, after I press charges against that SOB, I'm called my lawyer to start divorce proceedings and my final call today will be to dear old Uncle Cecil. I'm going to blow all Thomas' plans straight to hell. Don't look at me like that, Ryan. This isn't all some sort of knee jerk reaction to being beat up. I've ... well, I've been having my doubts about this plan for the last several weeks ... since Sharpay met Troy and I realized that this was affecting more than just my life or Thomas' life. It's affected and ruining two other innocent people's lives."

"Three people, Cynthia. There's also an innocent baby to consider."

"Oh God, Ryan. What a horrible mess we've made for ourselves", she moans.

"I'll go with you to the police station", he offers.

"Don't be ridiculous. Wouldn't that look glorious, to show at the police station to file charges against my abusive husband with my trophy lover on my arms? That'll just give him more ammunition when it comes to the divorce. No, I'd like to keep you out of this, if it's possible", she finishes gently.

"Actually, I came over here to get Troy's phone number. Sharpay wants to call him ... to clear the air."

"Of course, that's a great idea. I'm so glad she's alright. But what's going to happen to her, Ryan? If I blow the lid off this illegal scheme of Thomas', that poor girl to going to stuck with a baby she doesn't even want."

"I don't think that's going to be a problem."

"Look", Cynthia says with sudden resolve in her voice, "I'll get you Troy's address and phone number and I'll do you one better. I'll give you all the paperwork we have about Cecil's will and Sharpay's contract with us. She needs to know the whole truth."

Cynthia stands up and starts to go towards her office when a sad thought occurs to her. She turns slowly to Ryan and says sadly, "I guess this is the end of us. I mean I won't have much money, if any, when this is all said and done. I won't be able to support you the way you're accustomed. ... I'll ... I'll miss you, Ryan."

"No you won't." Ignoring her hurt expression, he continues, "You won't miss me because I'm not going anywhere. I ... care for you Cynthia. I'll be honest and say I'm not sure this is love; I've never been in love, but I'd like to stay around and explore the possibilities."

"Oh Ryan", Cynthia sobs as she turns and melts into his arms.

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"Grrrr!", Gabriella roars into her pillow. Well actually, it's Troy's pillow. He's in the shower now, getting ready for class.

_This is the most frustrating relationship I've ever been in and that's saying a lot. Every time it's the same. Just when I think Troy is finally coming around ... BAM! There she is again! Sharpay. Oh how I love to hate that name. _

When Troy called her three weeks ago to meet for drinks, Gabriella thought he had finally come to his senses. But every night is the same. He gets drunk out of his skull; they have half-ass, mediocre sex, probably due to all the drinking; and then, to add insult to injury, he mumbles her name in his sleep all night. And now! The apogee of the whole relationship, if you could call it that, happened just half an hour ago. Just when he was reaching his peak as a result of her excellently performed fellatio, which by the way, is her specialty, he has the blasted nerve to call out _her_ name! _Sharpay!_

"Grrrr!", Gabriella screams again as she throws back the covers and starts to gather up her clothes. "Enough is enough. I'm outta here, but I'm not leaving empty-handed."

Once she's dressed she goes over to Troy's heap of crumpled clothes and starts going through the pockets. She knows he's come into some money lately. That's the main reason she decided to give him a second chance. Now she just has to find some of it.

"Ah, ha!", she exclaims as she pulls a wad of bills out of his pants. She standing there with the money in one hand and Troy's pants in the other when the door opens and in walks a towel-clad Troy.

"Hey Gabriella", he says easily. "I thought you'd be gone by ... what are you doing?"

"Nothing", she replies lightly, while simultaneously dropping his jeans and putting other hand quickly behind her back.

"You're taking my money?", he asks incredulously.

"Of course not, honey", she coos as she anxiously tries to stuff the money into her back pocket so he can't see it.

He lurches at her and grabs the hand she trying to hide behind her back. "Don't lie to me", Troy hisses.

The money goes flying through the air and Gabriella lets out a nervous laugh. "Look ... I'll just leave now."

"Damn straight you'll leave. And don't come back."

She straightens herself up with as much dignity as she can muster and leaves.

Troy bends down and starts picking up his money. "Women! I think I'm finished with them all."

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Ryan breezes into Sharpay's room with a spring in his step. Things are finally starting to look better. _Me and Cynthia Vanderbilt, who would-a thunk it?_ Since he had started seeing Cynthia he didn't want to admit how much she had affected him. He hadn't even taken any new _clients_ since then and that had been nearly a year ago. Even Thomas ... oh he still flirted with him and others, that was just his nature, but that squash game with Thomas really was just a squash game and he'd left before the steam room.

Ryan's so lost in his own thoughts that he doesn't immediately realize that the bed is empty. The sheets are tossed aside and IV line is laying on the floor.

"Sharpay?", he calls out in a panic.

"Mmmm in ere", comes a muffled voice from the bathroom.

A second later, the door opens and a completely dressed Sharpay Evans, sans makeup, comes walking out of the bathroom carrying her toothbrush in one hand and brush her hair with the other.

"I was brushing my teeth", she explains excitedly. "Did you get it? Let's go."

"Whoa, whoa, you're not going anywhere. Why are you even out of bed? And did you pull out that IV line? Are you crazy?"

"I feel fine and I found out some ... information and I really need to see Troy, in person. What I need to say to him can't be said over the phone. I have to see him."

"Well, I've got some news too --- pretty shocking news."

"I'll lay you odds it's not as shocking as my news", Sharpay shoots back. Then, she grabs her coat and his hand and pulls him towards the door. "Come on, we'll compare notes on the way."

Ten minutes later, they're sitting in a cab on the way to NYU and both of them have the same expression of shock and dismay on their faces. They each had a chance to tell their news and the conclusion for both Ryan and Sharpay is the same.

"Damn", they both say simultaneously.

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"Are you sure this is it?", Sharpay asks skeptically.

They're in a taxi which has just pulled up to a run-down, ram-shackle house --- no, more like a tenement building. The house itself looked like it was once very beautiful --- about a hundred years ago. Now it's just a run-down building with peeling paint, numerous broken or missing shutters, busted gutters, rotten wood on the porch. You name it and it was broken or missing completely.

"Well, it matches the address, but you're right. This place is a dump", Ryan notes as he references the paper in his hands.

"Well, no time like the present", Sharpay announces with resolve as she opens the door and steps out.

They both cautiously walk up to the front door, being careful to avoid loose bricks and rotten wood. Ryan is just about to knock when Sharpay hears a familiar voice behind her.

"Sharpay? Is that you, girl?", a voice calls out excitedly.

Sharpay turns to find Taylor, Zeke's cousin, walking toward them from the street with a curly hair young man in tow.

"Taylor! I can't believe it", Sharpay says with equal excitement.

Sharpay carefully comes down the steps and the two women embrace each other warmly. Taylor pulls back to take a good look at the blond.

"Let me get a look at you. My goodness, girlfriend, you're getting big", she reaches out to touch Sharpay's belly. "How far along are you now?"

"About five months. But hey, why are you here?", as she looks questioningly at Taylor and the almost familiar looking man behind her.

"Oh, I'm sorry. This is my boyfriend, Ch...", Taylor starts, but Sharpay quickly interrupts her.

"Chad! Oh my goodness! It's really you! You know for months I didn't know Troy's name and at first, I thought it was Chad, but then I found out it wasn't Chad, so he became NotChad. Silly, I know, but ...", Sharpay prattles away.

"Wait a minute", Chad says, finally getting a word in, "I know you too." To be honest, he didn't recognize her at first. He'd gone with Troy all the way to New Mexico to find this pretty little sweet thang that he'd met at the club, not this ... this woman ... this pregnant woman. _Whoa! Wait til Troy ... Oh man ... Troy._

"This is Sharpay Evans", Taylor intercedes. "But how do you know her?"

"Wait a minute. How do _I_ know her? How do _you_ know her?", Chad asks indignantly. "I shlepp all the way out to New Mexico looking for her and you knew her all along? I can't believe you knew her and didn't tell us."

"How was I supposed to tell you about her? You never told me her name. All you ever said was that Troy was obsessed with finding this hot, blond chick who he got down and dir...", Taylor stops wide-eyed and embarrassed as she looks back at Sharpay and more specifically, Sharpay's pregnant tummy.

"Oh crap", she mutters. "Are you here to talk to Troy about...?", she asks indicating with her eyes to Sharpay's middle.

"Well, yeah. That's a big part of it ... yes", Sharpay admits. "Is he here?"

Taylor looks sharply at Chad who has just spent the past forty-five minutes telling her about how he found Troy earlier.

"Umm, he's got a class now", Chad answers. _There, that's not a lie --- not the whole truth either, but definitely not a lie._

"Oh, well it's really important that I ...", Sharpay explains before she is interrupted by a slinky dark hair girl running out of the house.

She's not watching where she's going and she slams right into Ryan and they both go tumbling to the ground.

"Oof", Ryan groans as the wind is knocked out of him.

"Sorry", the girl mumbles as she awkwardly stands up and brushes off her clothes.

"No prob...", Ryan says before looking up into her eyes. "Gabriella? Gabriella Montez?"

"Ryan? What are you doing here?", Gabriella asks in shock and then, noticing the others, she starts to fidget nervously.

"I'm here with my friend, Sharpay", Ryan tells her and he picks himself up off the floor and brushes off his impeccable clothing. _Ugg, I'm going to have to send this to the laundry. _

"Sharpay?", Gabriella hisses menacingly. Then, she looks over at the other three and quickly realizes that the short blond must be Sharpay,_ the_ Sharpay, the bane of her existence.

"Do we know each other?", Sharpay asks with a small smile. There's something about this girl she doesn't like.

"We have a mutual friend", she snaps.

"Oh ... Ryan?", Sharpay guesses, still trying to figure out this girl.

"I wouldn't exactly call us friends, Sharpay", Ryan supplies. "We used to work together. We had the same _manager_, if you will."

Sharpay's eyes go wide. "Really?", she asks.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?", Gabriella asks as she quickly steps up into Sharpay's personal space.

"Ummm, nothing. It's just that ... Ryan? A little help here", she pleads to him to imploring brown eyes.

"She doesn't mean anything by it Gabriella and besides ... I heard you _retired_. Isn't that right?", Ryan says as he steps up closer to Sharpay. He's seen this girl get mad and he doesn't want to see Sharpay get hurt.

"Retired?", Taylor says in disbelief. "Who retires at our age?"

"Listen, this is all well and good, but I really need to talk to Troy. When will he be back?", Sharpay interjects. This conversation seems to be getting further and further away from Troy.

Gabriella stands up tall when she faces the blond. "Troy? Oh, he's in his room. In fact he was just getting dressed when I left", she croons straight into Sharpay's face. The implication is loud and clear.

"Oh", Sharpay responds dejectedly. Then, she sadly turns to Ryan and whispers, "Maybe we should just go."

"Oh no you don't. Troy's been looking for you way too long to have you leave without seeing him", Chad steps forward and takes Sharpay by the hand to lead her safely into the house.

TBC

Here's what I have to say about that...

Hope this chapter was better.

Okay, I really have a clear way to end this thing and it shouldn't take much longer.

How about Ryan and Cynthia? Shocking, huh? Actually, I have this goofy prejudice when it comes to couples. I think an older man with a younger woman is sick. However, a older woman with a younger man --- I say, 'You go, girl.' Weird, I know, but that's just me.

And obviously, Troy never told Chad about meeting Sharpay at the Vanderbilt's.

And I want to give a shout-out for a new story I've been reading: it's called Mysteries Unknown by giantzacface and it's the wildest thing you'll ever read --- great fun and really well written.


	14. Chapter 13: The Real Reunion

**Baby for Sale**

Disclaimer: I only own this plot. I do not own High School Musical.

_Previously on Baby for Sale..._

"_Oh no you don't. Troy's been looking for you way too long to have you leave without seeing him", Chad steps forward and takes Sharpay by the hand to lead her safely into the house._

Chapter 13: The Real Reunion

Chad Steps forward and takes Sharpay by the hand to lead her safely into the house. The other three follow them. To everyone's surprise, they run into a very harried and angry Troy Bolton in the fraternity house's large foyer.

"Troy...", Sharpay says breathlessly. It's not sultry seduction talking; she's starting to feel a little woozy; maybe it wasn't such a good idea to leave the hospital so soon.

"You!", Troy shouts angrily and points straight at Sharpay, "What the hell are you doing here? I told you to get out!"

Sharpay reels at his onslaught. She isn't expecting all wine and roses at their reunion, but she did hope to have the chance to explain things to him in a civil manner. However, before she can comment to try and defend herself, she hears an equally angry voice from behind her.

"Fine! Who can blame a girl for being a little curious?", Gabriella bites out. "And don't ever expect to see me again." She turns on her spiked heels and storms out of the house.

"Oh...", Sharpay mutters, simultaneously relieved and confused by their exchange. _At least he's not angry with me._

"And you!...", Troy continues to rant, "What are _you_ doing here?" This time his ire is directed at Sharpay.

_Or not._

"I ...", she says with a slight sway. She takes in a deep breath and straightens up to face him full on. "I need to talk to you", she says emphatically.

He crosses his arms over his chest and tries to look casual. "I thought we were finished talking."

Chad and Taylor are simply looking on in silence. This cold exchange certainly isn't what they expected.

Sharpay copies his pose and folds her own arms over her chest. With her expanded middle and breastline, it just doesn't have the same effect, but she continues, nonetheless.

"Okay, ... here it is", she says in a determined voice. "You're the father of my baby."

Since they are having this conversation in the middle of a fraternity house lobby at the end of the school day, it is bustling with students, both male and female. And suddenly, the background clatter of the busy house is stone, dead, quiet. People seem to be dragging their feet and slowing down in order to listen, without actually appearing to be listening.

"And this is news ... how?", Troy asks sardonically.

"Dude ... that's cold", Chad can't help but mutter.

"I'll say", both Ryan and Taylor say together and then, their eyes meet in equally appraising stares.

"No it isn't, Chad. You don't understand. This is a business arraignment, plain and simple. Right, Sharpay?"

"Not anymore", she says quietly, in a slightly choked voice.

Ignoring her, he continues, "I was just a sperm donor. I was paid; she was paid; end of story. She was in on this illegal plan of my _relatives _from the start. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if they put her up to finding me at the club, back in August." He doesn't even try to hide the sneer in his voice when he says the word, _relative_.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, man. What are you talking about?", Chad asks.

"I can't get into that here, but believe me ... it's unbelievable."

Despite the jabbing pain in her heart from Troy's harsh words about their wondrous night, Sharpay manages to pull a large manila envelope from her bag and say, in a fairly steady voice, "I have all the information right here. But you have to believe me, Troy; I had no idea about any of this until just a few hours ago. Ryan only told me about it today." A beat. "I swear. Here ... take a look at it. It has everything: all the legal papers, my contract, your contract, Cecil's will, ... everything."

She tries to hand him the envelope, but he makes no move to take it. Taylor, however, steps up.

"Do you mind if I look at that?", she asks with thinly veiled excitement.

Sadly and with a shrug, Sharpay hands the envelope over to Taylor who immediately takes the closest seat and starts pouring over the contents.

"But you don't understand, Troy", Sharpay says to the rigid young man. She takes a deep breath to steady her nerves and continues, or tries to. Before she can say anymore, she starts to lurch dangerously on her feet.

Ryan is immediately at her side. "You want to sit down?", he suggests in a low tone.

"Yeah", she replies and makes a quick stab at wetting her suddenly dry lips with a darting tongue.

Troy's anger evaporates when he takes in her pale face and sunken, dark rimmed eyes. _Why hadn't I noticed that before now?_

"Are you okay?", Troy asks in genuine concern.

"No, she's not", Ryan answers for her. "She shouldn't have left the hospital, but she was just so hard set on talking to you..." Ryan guides Sharpay over to a mangy sofa while simultaneously giving Troy a rueful gaze.

Troy follows them over like a sad puppy and sits awkwardly next to Sharpay, but not too close.

"Hospital?", Troy prompts.

"She hasn't been taking care of herself. She's dehydrated and malnourished because she was so hurt by what you said to her three weeks that she's barely been eating anything since then."

"Here, try this", Chad appears from nowhere with a cold can of Sprite in his hand. "The sugar should help."

Sharpay accepts it with a small smile. "Thanks."

Turning towards Troy, she says, "I'm fine. I'm better than I was. I probably shouldn't have left the hospital, ... true, but I couldn't wait. I had to see you today. You see..."

Troy tentatively reaches over and takes her hand and is happy when she doesn't pull away.

"You really are the father of my baby. No, let me explain", she says when he looks like he's about to interrupt. "I went to the clinic for the insemination, two weeks after ... ", she dips her head shyly to the side, "our night together. The doctor was acting ... odd, but I was nervous and I guess I didn't give it much thought. Anyway, I just found out today. ... Wow, this has been a hell of a day, you know? Where was I?"

"You just found out today ...", Chad prompts. He has pulled up a chair and the sitting in rapt thrall as their conversation plays out.

"Right ... So the nurse from the clinic shows up in my hospital room today. It seems she quit working for the fertility clinic right after I left. She said it was the guilt. You see, Troy, ...", she turns fully to face him now, drawing strength from the warm touch of his hand in hers. "I was already pregnant --- two weeks gone ... apparently."

"Yyyou mean ... ", and his voice drops to a barely audible whisper as he continues, "from_ our_ night."

The woozy, light-headedness is instantly gone and she can't help but grin a goofy grin at how reverently he said _our_. Her only response is a sheepish, "Yeah."

Chad, immediately stands up and and announces in a clear voice, "Alright citizens, show's over. Go on about your business", to the throng of people gathered in the lobby to eavesdrop on their lives, which are so obviously more interesting than their own. The onlookers all look appropriately embarrassed as they turn to leave.

Chad, then, looks back to Troy and Sharpay and suggests quietly, "How 'bout Ryan, here, and I run out for some pizza and the two of you go have that long talk you've so obviously been needing for some time now."

With dazed looks on their faces, Troy and Sharpay pull their gazes away from each other and look up at Chad.

"Uh?"

"Go . Upstairs; We'll . Be . Back . With . Dinner", Chad says slowly as if talking to children.

"Right", answers Troy.

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Troy opens the door to his room with the intention of ushering Sharpay into the room when he suddenly spies the rumbled mess that should be his bed. As a deep crimson blush creeps up his cheeks, he quickly bounds over to the bed and throws the comforter over the mess. _I'll have to burn that bedding later._

"Here", he offers, "Sit on Chad's bed. Believe it or not --- he's a much better housekeeper than me."

She sits, perched on the edge. Troy takes a seat on the chair he moves over and they sit face to face with their knees almost touching.

Nervously, Troy asks, "Can I get you anything? Drink? Snack? Anything?"

"No, thank you, I'm good. The soda hit the spot. Chad was right; I needed the sugar."

Silence. Troy's just sitting there --- staring at her.

"Soooo", Sharpay starts. "Here we are."

Silence. Still staring.

"At least we're not yelling at each other anymore", she offers.

Silence. Still with the staring.

"Are you going to say anything or are you just going to sit there and stare at me all night?" Now she's starting to get angry.

"Okay!", Troy shouts, a little more loudly than he intently. He hops up from the chair and it falls backwards onto the floor. "Here's what I've been thinking ... " Then, he suddenly whirls back around to face her and drops to his knees. "Marry me." It wasn't a question.

Silence. It's her turn to stare.

"Please", he adds as an afterthought.

When she finally speaks, it isn't what he expects to here. "Pardon my French, but you've got to be shittin' me."

"Whaa?", he tries, but it interrupted.

"I don't even know you and if you think for one minute I'm going to marry some guy who I barely know just because he got me knocked up, you're crazy." Now she hops up and he nearly stumbles back in surprise. For such a small person, she has a heck of a presence.

"No, it's not like that. Not at all. From the time I first started looking for you, this is what I planned to say to you. I swear. But then, when we did meet ... well, it didn't quite work out the way I planned."

"Not like I envisioned it either."

"Wait", he exclaims as a light bulb goes in his brain. "I have proof." He quickly retrieves a shoe box from beneath his bed and hands it to her. "Here, take I look at these." He pulls off the lid to reveal a box stuffed to the brim with letters, never sent, of course, to her.

"Wow...", Sharpay murmurs as she flops back down on the bed to study them.

"Go ahead", he encourages. "They're all for you."

Sharpay nervously starts to pour over the papers --- filled with line after line of Troy's heart, his dreams, and his plans. And at the end of each and every one of those letters is the same question, "Will you marry me?"

She can't read anymore. She can barely see. Her eyes are brimming over with tears and she certainly doesn't want to ruin her letters by getting them wet. Instead, she looks up at a blurry image of Troy and rasps out, "I dreamed about you, you know --- every night since August."

"Really?" Troy has a distinct tinge of wonder in his voice.

"Yeah, silly, huh?"

"No, ... no, not at all." Now he moves to sit next to her on Chad's bed. _I think I might have to burn my entire bed, mattress and all._ "I dreamed too ... about you ... about us. So really, it's always seemed like I knew you longer than just those few short hours."

"It's like we've known each other for the five months in between too", Sharpay says, finishing his thought.

"Exactly."

Silence. Oh no, not this again.

"Sooo...", Troy tries.

Silence. This is getting redundant.

"Have you rethought my question?"

"I don't remember you asking one", Sharpay says with a slight smirk.

"I asked you to marry me."

"No you didn't, Troy. I was always very good in my grammar classes and what you said to me was an imperative sentence. Those are used in commands and the implied subject is "You", which ... is, actually, ... me." She's starting to confuse herself. "You commanded me to marry you. You didn't ask."

Silence. Troy's brow is furrowed deep in thought as if he's trying to remember how to conjugate verbs.

"I'm waiting", she grumbles with a flip of her hair as she sits up straighter in anticipation.

"Sorry." Troy drops to his knees and takes both her hands in his and looks deep into her coffee-brown eyes. "Sharpay Evans, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife because I love you with all my heart and soul and I don't think I can live without you."

"Now that's a proper proposal. And yes, Troy Bolton, I will marry you and share my life ... and our child with you because a day hasn't passed since we met that I haven't thought of you and dreamed of you and wanted to be with you."

She gently reaches down and pulls him up on the bed with her. It's hard to say who started the kiss. It was a simultaneous smashing of lips and tongues and teeth. This is followed quickly by a simultaneous shedding of clothing and much groping and frantic caresses.

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Chad is awkwardly balancing two large pizzas while Ryan is standing behind him with two six-packs of soda. Chad makes a couple of short raps on the door and then walks in. After all, he does live here and the door's unlocked, so ...

_God, that's twice in one day. I really need to find Taylor. And in my bed too._

Chad quickly slams the door shut and turns to Ryan.

"Why don't we eat this in the lobby?"

"I could've told you what they were doing, you know", Ryan tells him as they turn to head back to the lobby.

"Then why didn't you?"

"Ya didn't ask."

Before they reach the stairs, Taylor comes flying down the hallway towards them.

"Quick! Where are Troy and Sharpay? I've found out some major stuff here." She's frantically waving the manila envelope around in the air.

After giving each other a short nod, Ryan takes her left side and Chad takes her right as they drag Taylor back down the hallway backwards.

"Hey! What going on? I _need_ to see Troy and Sharpay. This is really important", she screeches at them.

"Not now, Taylor", Chad tells her. "They're still _talking_. We'll eat pizza and then, check on them later."

"Much later", Ryan adds.

HSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSM

An hour later a very carefree couple strolls into the fraternity house lobby.

"Hey guys, where's the pizza?", Troy asks as he casually drops down on the ratty sofa and pulls Sharpay onto his lap. She just curls up against him and let's out a contented sigh.

"There's a couple of pieces left, but it's stone cold, man", Troy tells him.

"Ooo, I love cold pizza", Sharpay says as she reaches over and snags a piece of pepperoni.

"I take it ... you talked, huh?", Chad asks.

"Yep, we got everything all sorted out." Troy is practically beaming and he pulls Sharpay face up and gives her a sweet pepperoni-filled kiss on her lips.

"Yeah", she agrees as she continues to chew.

Chad, Taylor and Ryan just roll their eyes. It looks like they've been very busy. There are papers scattered all over the floor and coffee table. Chad is sitting on the same sofa as Troy and Sharpay with Taylor sitting on the floor with her back against the sofa and between Chad's legs. Ryan is sprawled out on the floor surrounded by piles of paper and empty soda cans.

"This is so exciting and you two are so lucky because I've just finished a semester on estate law, which I aced, by the way", Taylor exclaims excitedly. In fact, Troy has never seen her this excited. "We've all gone over these papers a dozen times each."

"We had plenty of time", grumbles Ryan.

"Anyway, I'm absolutely sure about what I'm going to say ... it can all be yours ... every last penny."

"But ...", Chad prompts.

"Yeah, there's always a 'but'", Ryan adds.

"Wait a minute", Troy holds up a hand, "What can all be ours? What are you talking about?"

"The money, Troy, the money." At his blank expression, she continues, "Uncle Cecil Vanderbilt's fortune. That's what this whole thing has been about anyway, right?"

"Yeah", Sharpay finally joins the conversation. "But what does that have to do with us? Once Cynthia blows the lid off this thing, the money will probably go to those distant cousins that the papers mention."

"You don't understand. Troy is a Vanderbilt by blood. Your baby meets all the stipulations for the inheritance ... ", and then she adds, somewhat reluctantly, "except for one. You two have to be legally married."

"Oh ... is that all?", Sharpay chirps.

TBC

Here's what I have to say about that...

I'm so excited. I've almost got this thing wrapped up. One more chapter left.

Please let me know what you think.


	15. Chapter 14: Meeting the Relatives

**Baby for Sale**

Disclaimer: I only own this plot. I do not own High School Musical.

_Previously on Baby for Sale..._

"_You don't understand. Troy is a Vanderbilt by blood. Your baby meets all the stipulations for the inheritance ... ", and then she adds, somewhat reluctantly, "except for one. You two have to be legally married."_

"_Oh ... is that all?", Sharpay chirps._

Chapter 14: Meeting the Relatives

Two months later...

Troy pulls off the small country road and onto a shaded, winding driveway covered by a canopy of ancient oak trees. This driveway, if one could call it that, is three miles long --- three miles to become more and more nervous about this _required_ visit. Even Sharpay is starting to squirm in her seat as she constantly adjusts and readjusts her seatbelt to find a more comfortable position for it.

"You okay?", Troy asks with concern.

"Fine", Sharpay grumbles, "Are you sure it was basketball you played in high school and not soccer? Because Junior, here, has just decided to play a soccer match with my bladder as the goal. Don't you dare laugh at me, Troy Bolton. This is all your fault, you know."

Troy really can't help but smile.

"Thanks."

"What?", she snaps, irritably.

"Thanks", he repeats. "Thanks for making me see, once again, what's really important in my life."

"My bladder?", she asks with one raised eyebrow.

"Nooo ... us --- you, me, and Junior --- that's who. You know I'm really nervous about our meeting today, but you, Sharpay Bolton, anchor me, bring me back down to earth and remind me what's really important."

"God, I did all that and here I thought I was just complaining because I need to go pee."

"Well, I'm pretty sure..."

Troy stops mid-sentence as the car breaks through the covered woods and their view of the world opens onto the huge expanse of a large stone mansion. In front of the mansion is a lawn as large as a small city block. It is still spotty with a smattering of snow from the, hopefully, final winter storm of the season. At its center is a large stone fountain, resplendent, no doubt, during the warmer months, but drained and dry for the winter. The four-story French Renaissance manor is impressive and intimidating. As they drive closer, it seems to grow larger and larger. It has a steeply pitched roof complete with stone gargoyles to protect it from harm and the most notable architectural feature is the large staircase tower to the left of the mansion's entrance. It is flanked by two large limestone statues. The right statue is of a regal man carrying a sword in one hand and a cross in the other. While the statue on the left portrays a young woman in armor carrying a long spear, taller than she.

"Wow...", Sharpay says with a whistle. "They oughta have a bathroom or two." And then, adds a second later as she's staring at the statues. "Is that Joan of Arc?"

"Of course it is. Don't all your relatives have life-sized statues of saints in the front of their houses?", he asks sarcastically.

"Uh no, we usually go for the coat of arms and full-size suit of armor in the foyer. It's much more sedate."

As they park on the gravel drive in front of the house, Troy can't help but feel a little embarrassed by his 2001 Geo Metro. His little economy car is surrounded by the upper crust of European luxury vehicles: Mercedes, BMW, Volvo.

Sharpay brings him out of his musings when she squeezes his hand and asks quietly if he's ready.

"No, but let's go anyway."

They link hands as they walk toward the front entrance. Two large ornate stone lions guard the house and Troy gets the distinct feeling that they're eying him up for dinner. Just as they are about to knock on the large dark wooden door, it bursts open and two very angry people come storming out.

"You bastard!", the pale, sickly woman, screeches at the sloppy over-weight man.

"Me? Me?! I wasn't the one who called one of the wealthiest men in the world a rotten, wrinkled, grandiose, dirt-licking jerk. My God, Helena, you've just ruined our entire lives. We're running out of money; we've got a kid on the way; and in a month, we'll have nowhere to live."

"Oh Bernie, you mean Uncle Cecil would really throw us out on the streets? Why would he care if we continue to live in the Brunswick house?", Helena asks in disbelief as she clutches her slightly swollen belly.

"What do you think?", Bernie asks.

"I think you should go find a job and start supporting your family", Sharpay provided as she and Troy can't help but overhear their ranting.

Bernie and Helena seem to notice Troy and Sharpay for the first time.

Bernie turns on Sharpay and shouts, "And if I had wanted the opinion of a plebeian like you, I would ask one of the waitresses at Hooters. Just tell me what shift you work and I'll drop by."

Steam is shooting from Troy's ears when he steps between Bernie and his wife.

"Listen, _Bernie_, I don't know who the hell you are, but no one insults my wife like that." Troy steps closer to him with each word and by the time he finishes the sentence, he is standing so close to the man he can tell what he had for lunch. It was Mexican, and stinky Mexican at that.

"Well, I never", Helena spouts. Bernie says nothing, but he does pale considerably.

Just then the faint echo of heels on polished marble is heard coming towards the still open door. An middle-aged woman in a dark business suit appear and asks for Troy and Sharpay.

"Well", Bernie puffs to Helena as Troy rejoins Sharpay and they start towards the door, "Too bad he had to leave. I was just about to give him a piece of my mind."

"You idiot!", Helena shrieks, "That was Troy Bolton. He's the one Thomas called about. He's Thomas' half-brother and his wife looks much further along than me."

"Maybe Thomas could help..."

"Thomas Vanderbilt is on his way to a federal penitentiary. He can't even help himself."

"Oh God, I'm getting one of my sick headaches", mumbles Bernie.

HSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSMHSM

Although this is a private home, they immediately get the sense of a grand museum. The great hall is dark, and a bit eerie, imposing, yet not intimidating. Looking through the dim light, their eyes are soon attracted to rays of sunlight showing through the arches to the right. Light falls in abundance from ceiling to floor, through the neighboring room. To the left, another shower of sunlight flows gently down a spiral marble staircase like a silky veil of light cascading over a waterfall. The arches in the entrance hall open to various rooms as though you're standing at the center of a labyrinth choosing a way out.

"If you'll excuse me for a moment, I'll check to see if Mr. Vanderbilt is ready to see you. I sense he'll need some recovery time after dealing with the last two", the elegant assistant who introduces herself as _just Maggie_, tells them before starting to click her way up the massive marble staircase.

"Oh, ... um ... Maggie ... could you please ...", Sharpay starts to ask, but Maggie stops part way up the stairs and answers her unasked question.

"There's a powder room just down that corridor, first door on the right. And don't worry, the mansion has forty-three bathrooms." Maggie then turns and continues on up the stairs.

"Forty-three bathrooms ...", Sharpay sighs to herself, "I think I'm in heaven."

Sharpay returns five minutes later, oooing and ahhing over how gorgeous the bathroom is. Troy is sitting on an uncomfortable looking bench staring up at the ceiling and mumbling to himself.

"What are you looking at?"

"Seventy ... seventy-one ... seventy-two. Seventy-two", he repeats and looks over at Sharpay. "Can you believe it? That chandelier has seventy-two light bulbs in it."

Sharpay tips her head back to look at the massive iron chandelier hanging about thirty feet over their heads. She looks back at him with a puzzled look on her face.

"You counted them?", she asks in disbelief.

He shrugs, but doesn't comment.

Maggie returns and graciously offers to escort them up to Mr. Vanderbilt's bedroom. As they start to climb the immaculate marble steps, Sharpay realizes that they're inside the staircase tower that they saw on the outside. As they reach the top, she looks over at Troy expectantly.

"Well?", she asks him in a whisper.

"What?" He feigns innocent.

"I know you were counting, so how many are there?"

"102", he says sheepishly. "It's just something to keep my mind occupied, okay?"

"It's fine", she says reassuringly. "In fact I think it's kind of cute."

"Men don't like being called _cute_."

"Here we are", interrupts Maggie as they stop in front of a set of imposing double doors.

Then sensing some hesitation on their parts, Maggie adds, "I'll just leave you here. You can enter when you like, just give the door a good, solid knock. Mr. Vanderbilt's hearing isn't as good as it once was."

With that, she retreats back down the corridor.

"Well, this is it", Sharpay says as she raises her hand to knock.

"Don't!", Troy exclaims. "I ... I don't think I can do this. It's ... it's too much like how I met my ... biological father."

"Oh, I'm sorry, honey. I should have realized." They had spent of lot of time over the last two months learning about each other pasts and what they both wanted in their futures. And Troy had told her how devastating it was to meet William Vanderbilt and how he would never want to go through anything like that again.

However before she can suggest that they just leave and forget it all, the door bangs open and they are both startled to find a thin, wizened old man standing at the doorway, teetering back and forth while leaning haphazardly on a cane.

"Damn", he mutters. "You got here too soon." Then, he stumbles back and allows them to enter. "Come in, come in. Don't just stand there all day." Then, he stops short and turns back to them. "Wait, you there, Troy, right? Go out into the hall; you'll see a vase of flowers. Bring them to me. Go on, off with you."

When Troy leaves, he turns to a stunned Sharpay and introduces himself in a much softer tone. "Hello, my dear. You must be Sharpay. I'm Cecil Vanderbilt --- please, just call me Cecil. Come in and have a seat. You must be tired after such a long drive."

"Thank you, sir. You have a lovely home." They sit together on a deep red upholstered sofa. There are dark red colors all throughout the room including the covering on the bed. The seventeenth century Portuguese walnut furnishings are heavy and overbearing.

"Don't lie to me, girl!", he bellows suddenly. "This isn't a home; it's a bloody museum and I hate it, but my grandfather built this place at the turn of the last century, so I'm stuck with all this dreadfully formal furniture. You know, if I had it my way, I'd like to refurnish the whole place with Ikea furnishings."

"Oh, I love Ikea. It's so ... "

"Functional", Cecil finishes for her.

"Exactly."

Sharpay smiles and starts to relax. Cecil is nothing like she expected. Just then, Troy comes stumbling back in with a huge vase which he looks like he's about to drop at any moment. He finally lets it down with a loud thump.

"Are you crazy, boy? Don't you know what you have there? You could have broken it", Cecil exclaims as he struggles to stand up and wobbles over towards Troy.

"Sorry, it must be valuable. This is a Ming vase, isn't it?"

"What?", Cecil looks puzzled. "Oh, yeah. I guess it is. Thirteenth century, I believe. But that's not important. The important thing is what's inside. ... Well, don't just stand there. Take it out. Take it out."

At Troy's confused look, Cecil explains. "Look inside the vase, boy."

Troy pulls out the artificial flower in the vase and reaches in and pulls out a bottle. He turns it over to read the label. It's a thirty year old bottle of cognac.

"There's two glasses on the sideboard. Bring them over and let's have a drink, shall we?"

"Um, sure."

Then, turning to Sharpay, he apologizes. "I'm sorry, my dear, would you like something to drink? Water, perhaps?" Sharpay nods and Cecil bellows for Troy to bring Sharpay some water.

A few minutes later, the old man looks almost orgasmic as he sips from the glass of amber liquid.

"Cognac, drink of the gods. You know it has to be distilled twice in copper pot stills and aged at least two years in French oak barrels that are sealed air tight in order to be called cognac. The oak is what gives it this distinctive color."

Troy tries to take a sip and nearly chokes as he fails to realizes how strong it is.

The old man continues, "You know I'm trusting you two with my secret, right? If Maggie knew I had stashes of liquor around she'd skin me alive. She'd report me to that blasted doctor and they'd stick me with another Nurse Ratched to torment me. Hell, I'm dying anyway. Why can't they let me live my last days the way I want to live them?"

After a few minutes of silence, Troy timidly asks, "Don't you want to interview us or something?"

"Interview you? Hell boy, I'm not hiring you. I'm leaving you all my money."

"But how do you know we're the right people?"

"Well, you're a Vanderbilt by blood; she's your wife; she's got one in the oven. What's to know? And to tell you the truth, you two are a hell of a lot better than those other two --- _Bernie _and _Helena_. She had a little bit of spunk, but he's just a fat bastard. Though I must say if I'd thought people would be going around trying to procreate just to get my money, I would have rethought this crazy-assed plan of mine. That's a hell of a stupid reason to bring a child into this world. ... But I have to ask ... you two didn't _hide the old sausage in Daddy's underwear drawer_ just to get my money, did you?"

Cognac and water are spontaneously spewing out of Troy's and Sharpay's mouths, respectively. And Sharpay starts coughing frantically trying to catch her breath. Her gasps quickly turn to giggles.

"What?", Troy asks in disbelief. Troy takes the remainder of the cognac and downs it in one gulp.

"You know, _hit the ham, the horizontal Mambo, insert tab A into slot B, knock boots, lay pipe, make the two-backed beast, play hide and seek with the one-eyed trouser snake_..."

Troy turns beet-red and Sharpay is holding her sides as she snickers uncontrollably and tears start pouring down her face.

"Please, stop!", she begs through her laughter. "I can't take anymore."

Cecil sits down in his seat; satisfied that he's flustered the Bolton boy. _He's a good kid; just wish I'd known about him twenty years ago. Well, it's time to right some wrongs._

They takes a few minutes to recover and Troy finally answers the question. "No, we did not have this baby to get your money. It's complicated, but we didn't even know about it until two months ago."

"Good. That's the answer I wanted to hear."

"I think I like you Cecil", Sharpay confides.

"I think I like you too, Sharpay."

Sharpay suddenly perks up. "Hey, I've got a great idea! Are we allowed to sneak you out of this elegant prison of yours?"

"Sneak being the optimal word? Absolutely."

Fifteen minutes later, Troy, Sharpay and Uncle Cecil are flying down the highway on the way that mecca of minimalist expressionism --- Ikea.

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Sharpay just lets the tears pour down her face. Oblivious or unconcerned that her mascara is washing away with it. It's a beautiful early fall day; he would have liked that. Troy is standing stoically beside her and once he gently places a hand on her shoulders, she turns and melts into him --- racked with tears. They are the last two people there. Even the priest had leave twenty minutes ago.

"Hey, it's going to be okay. We knew he was dying when we met him", Troy says as he tries to sooth her.

"I know, but I'm still going to miss so much, Troy. We only had six months."

"Yeah, but they were the best six months of his life. Cecil said that all the time."

"I know and you're right, but I just wish we'd had more time."

"Come on, Mom and Dad are waiting at the house with CJ", he tells her.

"Okay, I need to feed him soon anyway. Are Cynthia and Ryan coming over?"

He nods. "They'll probably beat us there."

The past six months had flown by in the blink of an eye. Two months after meeting Cecil for the first time, Troy graduated with honors from NYU. And right in the middle of his graduation party, Sharpay went into labor. Sixteen hours later, little Cecil Jonathon Bolton was born. Rather than screaming his way into the world, CJ, as he became known, simply squinted his little eyes against the harsh light of the delivery room and calmly looked around, trying to understand what was happening. At four months old, CJ hasn't changed. He likes nothing better than to sit in his bouncy seat and watch the world. In fact, whenever anyone holds him, he protests very loudly until he's been turned around to face the world.

The younger Boltons arrive back at the mansion and trudge wearily inside. They immediately make their way back to the main kitchen to find the family sitting around what was once the servant's table, enjoying afternoon tea. Jack and Jennifer Bolton are playing hosts to Cynthia and Ryan. In his bouncy seat is CJ and in a reclining battery-powered bouncer is little Jacob Ryan. In a strange twist of fate, Cynthia and Ryan decided to adopt a baby, but not just any baby. Jacob Ryan is Bernie and Helena Vanderbilt's son. In an obscene bid to steal the family fortune, Helena was induced two months early, trying desperately to have their baby before Troy and Sharpay. Ironically, Sharpay gave birth just a scant twelve hours before Helena. The baby was born extremely small and sickly. Bernie and Helena, upon hearing that despite all their best efforts they have not secured their fortune, decided to put the baby up for adoption. It was going to be hard enough to provide for just the two of them. But, three?

When Cynthia learned of this horror, she immediately told Ryan and he is the one who actually suggested that they adopt the baby. After a month in the hospital, he was finally released to them. And now at four months old, he is starting to thrive. He's still small for his age --- closer to the size of a two month old (which is what he should have been), but he's a happy little baby and a joy to be around.

As Sharpay and Troy enter the kitchen, Sharpay immediately swoops over to scoop CJ out of his seat. She rejoins Troy and they get serious expressions on this faces.

"Everyone ... we have an announcement to make", Troy starts. "We've discussed it and we now know what we want to do with Cecil's money."

TBC

Here's what I have to say about that...

I'm back to being research girl. Since I named the uber rich folks, Vanderbilt, I decided that rich Uncle Cecil would live in Biltmore House. Check out the website www [dot biltmore [dot com

It was built by George Vanderbilt in the late 1800's. The descriptions of the house are true, including the number of bulbs in the chandelier (72), the number of bathrooms (43) and the number of stairs (102).

Only thing that's not true, is that rich Uncle Cecil lives there. No one does. It's like a museum; although it is still owned by descendants of George Vanderbilt. Oh, and it's actually in Asheville, NC, so I moved it closer to NYC.

Helena's most excellent insult came from hereinreality [dot com [slash funnystuff [slash otherstuff [slash insult [dot html

I realize this story needs an epilogue, so this isn't actually the end yet.


	16. Epilogue

**Baby for Sale**

Disclaimer: I only own this plot. I do not own High School Musical.

_Previously on Baby for Sale..._

"_Everyone ... we have an announcement to make", Troy starts. "We've discussed it and we now know what we want to do with Cecil's money."_

Epilogue

It is a beautiful spring day; the sun is shining and the temperature is pleasant. Upon the front of the large Vanderbilt mansion is a banner proclaiming "5th Anniversary --- The Cecil Amherst Vanderbilt Family Home". The grounds in front of the large manor house are covered with people, an odd combination of children and elderly people. There is entertainment everywhere. There are juggling clowns, balloon animals, face painting, concession stands with food and drinks. There is also a long line of small children waiting for a chance to ride a pony. It combines the best elements of a circus and a public street party.

Troy and Sharpay are above the crowds in a stone deck that overlooks the large lawn. Sharpay's hair is longer, reaching almost to her waist, and it's styled casually in a single braid that is hanging down over her right shoulder. She is wearing a bright pink halter dress which accents her slim waist and very stylish Jimmy Choo t-strap leather sandals on her petite feet. Troy looks laid back in beige cargo shorts and a striped button-down dress shirt with the sleeves rolled half way up his muscular arms.

"I can't believe we did it, Troy", Sharpay says with pride.

"Yeah, things are really starting to work out", Troy replies as he wraps an arm around his wife. "I can't believe it's been five years since we opened this place."

Just then a small boy of about six comes running up the stairs to his parents. His little legs are carrying him as fast as they can.

"Mommy! Mommy!", the small blond haired boy yells as he crashes into Sharpay.

"Whoa, there buddy. Slow down now. You don't want to hurt Mommy, do you?", Troy admonishes his son, but his voice lacks any real conviction.

Sharpay recovers quickly and kneels down to her son's level. "What's up, CJ? Are you being a good boy for Grandma and Grandpa?"

"Oh yes, Mommy, I've beeeen verrry good", he says with a twinkle in his eye.

"Huh, uhh", she nods with obvious disbelief in her eyes. "So what did you need, sweetie?"

"Take me to ride the ponies ... please", he adds as an afterthought.

"Grandma and Grandpa can take you over, CJ", Troy interjects. "Mommy and Daddy need to wait for a new guest who should be here soon."

"Daaadddy, they're no fun. Grandma's off doing girly things with Claire and Grandpa's skunkin' Uncle Chad on the basketball court in the back. Nobody's paying attention to me no more." CJ add a little foot stomp at the end of his sentence to further indicate his displeasure.

"_Any_more, CJ", Sharpay corrects automatically. "And baby, you know that's not true. They love you both very much."

Claire is CJ's younger sister and at almost three years old, she's the image of Sharpay with her golden locks and soulful brown eyes. When people see the four of them together, it always prompts someone to comment that they have both cloned themselves. CJ inherited the Vanderbilt blue eyes and although his hair is a sun-streaked blond, like so many children, it has already started to darken.

"That's right buddy. Claire and Grandma need that girly time --- it's just a fact of life, son. And Grandpa soooo needs to skunk Chad --- that's a fact of life, too."

"Hey, look who I see now", Sharpay exclaims as she points over to the stairs. "It's Ryan and Jake. And they look like they are so really to jump on a horse."

"It's a pony, Mom", CJ corrects indulgently. Then he scoots off towards the two newcomers. "Uncle Ryan! Jake! Let's go ride the ponies!"

"Yeah!!!", shouts Jake. Although only twelve hours apart in age, the two boys are still very different in size. Jake or Jacob Ryan Edwards is at least five inches shorter than CJ and pencil thin. He's healthy, but no one's sure he will ever catch up to his potential height. Being born a full two months early, he's lucky to be alive and everyday Ryan and Cynthia count as a blessing to have him. When they decided to adopt little Jake, they wanted to give him a real home and so they created that real home by marrying each other. And to everyone's shock and dismay, have never been happier. Ryan and Cynthia are devoted to each other and to their son.

"Is that okay with you, Ryan?", Sharpay asks.

"Sure, no prob. We were headed over there anyway." He assures him and the two boys and Ryan take off running across the lawn towards the ponies.

Sharpay leans against the railings and lets out a long sigh. As they look out at the carnival happening on that once well manicured lawn, now it becomes evident that the pairings of people are not coincidental. For each child there is at least one older person with them. That's the philosophy of the Vanderbilt Family Home. It's a combination retirement home and orphanage for the elderly and the young who have no one else to turn to. The children learn from the combined wisdom of their adopted "Grandparents" and the older people learn to be young again.

"I think Cecil would have been happy with this", Sharpay says with a satisfied smile.

"Well, if it doesn't work out, there's always my method of filling up those thirty-four bedrooms", Troy says as he wiggles his eyebrows.

"Yeah ... right!", she scoffs.

"But you are sooo sexy when you're pregnant", he coos into her ear as his hand reaches up and caresses her bare back.

"You liar!"

"No, it's the true", he declares and then continues in a more serious tone. "I just love your body when you're carrying my babies, Shar. You grow in all the right places and you feel so nice and squeezable."

"Squeezable? I'm not sure how to take that one and now I'm not so sure I'm going to tell you my news", she says in a huff.

"You know, CJ may look like me, but he acts just like you. ... Or maybe it's you who act just like him. I'm surprised you didn't stomp your foot."

"Do you want to hear my news or not?"

"Okay, I'm sorry, babe. What's up?"

"Well... It looks like it's your lucky day because in about seven months I'm going to be extremely squeezable." She finishes and then, smiles up at him coyly.

"You mean...", she nods. "That's fantastic." Troy reaches over and cradles her still flat stomach in his large hand. "Wonder what this one will look like?"

"I'm betting on a combo baby this time --- a little of me and a little of you."

He bends his head down and captures her lips in a heated kiss which is cut short by the sound of a car pulling up. They reluctantly pull away and walk down the stairs to meet the car.

Cynthia Edwards née Vanderbilt exits the large Lincoln Towncar and turns to help a small frail woman out. Troy and Sharpay approach the car and give Cynthia a hand.

"Hello, Mrs. Mendelson. I'm Sharpay Bolton and this is my husband, Troy. We run the Family Home and we are so happy you chose to come here."

"I didn't have much choice, now did I?", replies a grouchy, ragged voice. "They were going to throw me out on the street. Ungrateful kids. You raise them, care for them; and then, when they don't need you anymore, they toss your ass out." She is suddenly wracked with a bout of deep, ragged coughs.

Troy steps up to help the old lady. "Well, Mrs. Mendelson, please believe me. We want you and we know you'll be very happy here."

"Yeah, right", Mrs. Mendelson scoffs.

"I'll just walk you in to the house and we'll find your room, okay?"

"Like I've got a choice", Mrs. Mendelson replies in a voice very much like Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh.

After they leave, Sharpay turns to Cynthia, as they are both watching Troy and the old lady slowly make their way towards the mansion.

"Have you decide who you'll pair her with?"

"Oh yeah", Cynthia says slowly. "I think she'll be perfect for Glory."

"Glory?! Are you crazy? She'll eat that old lady alive."

Glory is a fourteen year old, streetwise orphan who ran away from her last foster home. She's only been at the home for three weeks and she's resisted any interact with the rest of the residents.

"Have I missed one yet?", Cynthia asks with a wry smile.

Sharpay starts to say something but stops. Cynthia does have an uncanny ability to place the right grandparent with the right child. Plus she uses her connections from her old life to help some of the more difficult cases, like former gang members and kids with troubled pasts. Her plastic surgeon will remove gang tattoos pro bono and her therapist will even offer therapy sessions at extremely discounted rates. Yes, Cynthia is an extremely valuable asset to the Family Home. Ryan, too, does his part. He organizes the annual talent show which is an outrageous hit every year.

"I'm sure you're right and they'll get along famously, Cyn"

"You know ... Mrs. Mendelson ask me if you were my daughter", Cynthia tells Sharpay.

"And you didn't bite her head off?"

"Actually ... no, I didn't. In fact for the first time ever, I felt a twinge of regret when I had to tell her you weren't."

"We've come along way these past six years, Cyn."

"Absolutely, Sharpay. And to think it all started with this insane scheme of my ex-husband."

"And the fact that I look enough like you to be your ... slightly younger sister."

The two women share a deep hug as the sound of a small marching band starts its performance around the fountain on the great lawn.

The End

Here's what I have to say about that...

Well, that's it. Sorry if some of you think it's a bit rushed. I swear you can't please everyone. If I'm not droning, I'm rushing. Oh well.

I realized that I never gave Ryan a last name, since he's not Ryan Evans in this story. So I picked Edwards since it starts with an E.

Thanks to all of my faithful reviewers.

Here's a summary for my next story. I don't have a title yet. Set in the fall after HSM2. Troy, Gabriella (who are dating), Ryan and Sharpay are camping. Why? I'm still working on that one. Anyway, they run into this psychotic killer. I think that always happens when teenagers go camping. He's a big game hunter who wants more challenging prey. He picks Troy and Sharpay and they have to get from point A to point B in 24 hours or he'll kill Ryan and Gabriella. Will they make it? Will the mad man kill them or will they kill each other?

And the best part, no one gets pregnant.

Oh, and I've been getting all these requests to continue my Why story. I find it really depressing, but I think I now have an ending for it (in my head, anyway). I'll see if I can work up my nerve to work on it.

Peace out, j


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